


the further on the edge, the hotter the intensity

by StoriesofmyLife



Series: IceMav Prompts [1]
Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: DADT, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Fluff and Smut, Ice and Mav are horn dogs, Ice and Mav can't keep their hands off each other, M/M, More smut than fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Some Humor, Some angst, but happy, five times verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesofmyLife/pseuds/StoriesofmyLife
Summary: Maverick wonders if it's always going to be like this--this burning want under his skin, the total awareness his body seems to have of Ice. The surge of want that always seems to grip him, even at the most inappropriate of times. He wonders if he's ever going to be able to be around Ice and function like a human being. Thankfully, Ice seems to have the same problem as Maverick.Or--Five times Maverick and Ice have sex in places they totally weren't planning to. A prompt given to me by thecarlysutra on tumblr.
Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Series: IceMav Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604257
Comments: 27
Kudos: 96





	1. Viper's House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecarlysutra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/gifts).



> Hello again! I've seem to have fallen down a Top Gun rabbit hole and I was given this idea by thecarlysutra on tumblr and it's taken on a lot more life than I had originally planned. If you've read some of my fics, they tend to come out rather long, despite my best intentions. This is the first installment of the collection and I hope you guys like it :) I've already written through chapter four and I'm still working on chapter five, so I plan to update a chapter every day or every other day.
> 
> This was going to be posted as one work, but I was writing a chapter last night and it was quiet long, so I just decided to upload them a chapter at a time. That way I can test the waters and maybe get some feedback. Plus, I'm very happy with how this turned out and I couldn't really wait to share it with the world (:
> 
> Special thanks to thecarlysutra for this prompt and also to boasamishipper for all the help and guidance they've given me along this new foray into the TopGun universe! If you haven't read their stories, you should because they're absolutely amazing!

_ 1. _

_ Viper’s House (upstairs bathroom) _

The party is boring, he’s sweating in his dress whites and all there is to drink is some malt German beer that Maverick has been choking down more out of pure politeness than an actual desire to drink it. It doesn't even make the party more tolerable, which is a shame, because Maverick could use something to make it more interesting. 

He would leave, but he’s bound by obligation—because of his job and his respect for Viper. The man was handing the entire Top Gun program over to Maverick after only being there for two years (something that had not pleased Jester) and he was the only commanding officer in the entire Navy that was willing to see  _ Maverick _ , not Duke Mitchell’s ghost and give him a fair shot. 

So the least he can do for the man is make it at least two hours at his retirement party, even if it means he has to slum it with a bunch of old fart officers and Viper’s family members he’s never met before. 

He’s looking over the refreshment table in a vague attempt to look preoccupied with something when he feels it—the weight of a stare on the back of his neck and it makes his skin prickle with awareness. Like being in a radar lock with an enemy MiG on your six. 

He knows who it is without turning around. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, his body heats in response—arousal pooling low in his belly, simmering along the surface of his skin and he swallows when he feels warmth on his back and an arm brush his as it reaches around him and plucks some party nuts from an ornate glass bowl. 

“Excuse me,” Ice murmurs, warm breath tickling Maverick’s cheek in a tantalizing caress and Maverick shivers. 

“A whole table here and you have to be right on top of me?” Maverick mutters, his eyes flicking around the room pointedly. 

Ice draws back, but he takes his time with it and Maverick can feel the heat of his body retreat and he feels cool without it. Maverick turns just in time to see Ice pop a cashew in his mouth and tries not to focus too hard on the salt that clings to his lips as he chews the cashew slowly, the muscles in his jaw jumping and twitching with the movement. 

Maverick tries not to think about how those same muscles jumped and twitched under his lips while Maverick rode Ice’s cock not even two hours ago. Or how he wants to feel it again. 

Ice smirks at him knowingly, flicking his gaze over Maverick and it’s full of appreciation and lust and it makes Maverick want to squirm. 

“You look so fucking good,” Ice murmurs, voice low, leaning into Maverick like they’re sharing a secret.

_ In a way, we are _ , Maverick thinks to himself.

He can smell the sharpness of the vodka on Ice’s breath, the salt from the nuts he’s been munching on and Maverick wants to chase it with his lips. 

Maverick narrows his eyes and tries to tamp down on his arousal. The last thing he needs right now is to pop a boner in front of at least twenty officers. He might as well hand them his wings on a silver platter, in that case. He casts his gaze around the room and notices that they’re essentially alone in the dining room and something loosens in his chest. 

He looks back at Ice, who’s watching him with fiery blue eyes and Maverick ignores the telltale stirring in his pants. 

“How much have you had to drink?” Maverick asks, trying to keep his tone low. He’s always been terrible at whispering, but he doesn't want anyone overhearing any part of this conversation. 

“Enough,” Ice says and Maverick thinks that’s all he’s going to get, but he should really know better. “Enough to want to lay you out on this table in front of God and everyone and show you just how much I appreciate the way your ass looks in these pants.”

It’s a dangerous admission and it sends fire racing down Maverick’s spine and tugs at his groin. Ice watches his confession hit Maverick like a missile lock and he’s daring him with his eyes to fire back. 

“That’s a risky maneuver, Kazansky,” Maverick warns, but he’s not  _ totally  _ against the idea. He wonders when the roles suddenly reversed: He, the cautious one and Ice, the dangerous one. He’s propositioning Maverick in a room full of people that could ruin their careers if they got caught. There’d be no court martial—we’re talking a dishonorable discharge on the spot. 

Ice’s eyes glimmer in the artificial lighting, like a lion that’s cornered its prey, “I like risks,” at Maverick’s raised eyebrow, “as long as it’s for a good cause,” he amends. 

He’s got Maverick and he knows it. Maverick can tell by the slow grin that pulls his lips back and shows all of his pearly white teeth. 

“Upstairs bathroom, ten minutes.” Maverick mutters, setting his unfinished beer down on the table. 

He shoots Ice a smile that’s just for show and pats him on the shoulder, like they’re old friends who just made plans to catch up on the golf course. He lets his fingers brush against the warm skin of Ice’s neck when he pulls away, lets his touch linger and Ice’s eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments. 

“Hard copy, Commander Mitchell,” Ice replies and Maverick forces himself to pull away. 

He leaves Ice in the dining room and makes sure to nod and smile to the right people, shakes hands with a few, as he tries to discreetly make his way to the stairs. He pretends to look at the pictures that line the walls leading up the stairs and he lets each one take him further up the stairs until he reaches the top. He makes sure no one sees him and he ducks down the hallway and finds the bathroom with relative ease. He’s been over a few times over the last few years and he knows his way around. He never thought it would come in handy until tonight. 

He leaves the door cracked and counts down in his head, tries to keep his cool. He starts to fidget nervously when he passes ten minutes and it starts to edge towards eleven and then twelve. 

At thirteen minutes and forty-five seconds, a tanned hand pushes the door open and Ice appears, looking apologetic and exasperated and it makes Maverick grin. 

“Jester wanted to talk hops with me,” Ice says with a roll of his eyes, shutting the door and flicking the lock with a twist of his fingers. “Fucker is drunk off his ass and could barely say two words to me and he wouldn't let me leave.”

He crowds Maverick at the sink, fingers gripping his hips and his mouth is on Maverick’s neck, lips warm, teeth sharp as they nip at his jaw, his throat, over his pulse point. All before Maverick can even take a breath. 

He throws his head back, biting his lip to prevent any moans from slipping out, knowing the youngest Metcalf is asleep just two doors down. 

“Fuck,” Ice mutters, slotting a thigh between Maverick’s leg and he should be embarrassed, really, by how hard he is, but he can feel Ice’s erection straining against his pants and he’s just as hard. “I’ve been hard since I walked in here and saw you.”

Dexterous fingers work his belt open, pop the button on his uniform pants and Maverick moans when Ice doesn't even bother with the zipper, just forces his hand down his pants and grips Maverick in his calloused hand. 

“Shh, baby,” Ice says, voice rough and straining against his ear. “Gotta be quiet, okay? We don’t want to get caught.”

Maverick nods and bites his lip so hard he swears he tastes blood when Ice twists his wrist on the upstroke, the rough drag of his Navy ring catching on the underside vein and it makes Maverick’s knees buckle. 

Ice catches his lips in a kiss that’s pure tongue and teeth and it’s  _ so _ good, it makes Maverick buck into Ice’s hand. His head is spinning, his heart is hammering against his chest, pounding so loud he’s sure everyone downstairs can hear it and he’s so turned on, he knows he’s not going to last much longer. 

“I want to fuck you,” Ice says against his lips. “Is that okay with you?”

Maverick almost whacks his head against Ice’s in his haste to nod. “Please, Ice,” he pants, feeling his cock twitch and leak from the head. 

“I got you, Mav,” Ice says. “Turn around for me, lean against the sink.”

Maverick complies, whipping around and gripping the porcelain sink tightly. As Ice shoves his pants down further, just under the curve of his ass, Maverick catches his reflection in the mirror above the sink and he marvels at his blown pupils, the flush to his cheeks. He looks almost  _ high  _ with it, but he admitted to himself long ago that he was well past addicted to Iceman Kazansky. 

Ice meets his gaze in the mirror and it takes everything in Maverick not to come on the spot. His pupils are blown, like Maverick’s, there’s a flush to his tanned cheeks and his blond hair is darkening with sweat. But what puts Maverick into a flatspin is the look of utter  _ want  _ in his gaze. It’s animalistic almost, like Maverick is water in the desert and Ice hasn’t tasted it on his tongue in months. He looks out of control and totally in control at the same time and it’s a heady mixture. 

Ice brings his fingers to Maverick’s lips, the same fingers that were just wrapped around his cock and Maverick can feel his own pre-cum smear against his lips, “Suck,” Ice orders in a low voice and Maverick complies. 

He wraps his lips around his fingers—those long, thick, capable fingers—and hums when he tastes himself on his tongue mixed with the taste of Ice’s skin—salt from the cashews, the chemical taste of vodka he must’ve spilled on his hands when pouring himself a drink, jet fuel and eucalyptus from the lotion he uses every day. He makes a show of it—fluttering his lashes, moaning around the digits, letting a bit of drool dribble down his lips for the aesthetic. He swirls his tongue over the tips of his fingers, nibbles them with his teeth and he makes sure to keep eye contact with Ice the entire time through lidded eyes and Maverick has to bite back a smirk when he sees Ice close his eyes and Maverick knows he’s picturing Maverick sucking something else. 

“That’s enough,” Ice says roughly and when his eyes blink open, Maverick can’t see any blue; his pupils have eclipsed his irises and Maverick shivers in anticipation. 

He takes his fingers from Maverick’s lips and doesn't hesitate in shoving two into his ass, no warning and that shows just how  _ not  _ in control Ice is. Usually he brushes his fingers over the fluttering hole, teasing, slips just one finger in, makes Maverick beg. 

_ Not tonight. _

Even though they did this earlier, Maverick still feels the stretch, the slight burn from not enough lube and it makes his cock twitch between his thighs. He doesn't hesitate to push back into it, wanting more, always wanting  _ more. _

Ice twists his fingers, stretching Maverick, prepping him for  _ more,  _ but never touching that one spot Maverick so desperately wants him to and he groans in impatience. 

“Fuck, Ice, just—“ He pushes his hips back harder than necessary, groans in annoyance when Ice pulls his fingers out completely, “Fuck me, ‘m ready, just  _ please.” _

“Okay, Mav, hang on a sec—“ Ice hurriedly undoes his belt, pops the button on his pants and he doesn't even have to bother with the zipper, his erection just bursts right through it. Maverick doesn't have much time to think about the fact that Ice seemed to decide to not even bother with underwear— _ what the fuck— _ because Ice is cursing and not in the good way.

“What?” Maverick says, trying for concerned but he’s sure it lands more between impatient and irritated. He’s hard as a rock and leaking and they’re on a time crunch and he needs to come like,  _ yesterday. _

“I don’t have a condom,” Ice says, looking up at Maverick and he looks so frustrated and despondent that it twists at Maverick’s heart, but. Also—

“Don’t care, go without it,” Maverick says, waving an impatient hand and Ice looks vaguely disgusted at the idea, but also unsure and Maverick takes a breath, tries to center himself a bit. “Ice, it’s fine. It’s not like we’re sleeping with anyone else; I’m clean, I know you’re clean,” Ice still doesn't looked convinced so Maverick goes for broke, “I trust you,” he whispers, voice soft and it works. 

“Are you sure?” Ice asks, lining himself up, but Maverick knows he’ll stop everything if Maverick changes his mind. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Maverick says, impatience creeping back into his voice and he shoves his ass back into Ice, shudders when he feels the leaking tip brush against his most sensitive area.

They’ve been together for almost two years and Maverick would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this. 

“Okay,” Ice says, spits into his palm and strokes himself a few times and Maverick braces himself, a soft grunt leaving his lips when he feels the tip of Ice’s cock breach his rim. 

It’s dry and slightly painful, but Maverick fucks back into Ice’s hips and has to muffle his cry of pleasure into his hand when he feels Ice’s cock sink into him fully, the tip brushing his prostate and he pants harshly against his palm. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Ice mutters, drawing out the last syllable like he does to Maverick’s callsign. His eyes flutter shut and the muscles in his jaw twitch and Maverick feels like he’s on fire. 

Ice pulls out and snaps his hips forward, the movement sharp and precise, nailing Maverick’s prostate dead on and he knows he’s not going to last. Every sensation is heightened—he can feel every drag of Ice’s cock against his walls, feel him leak into him, the tip catch on his rim every time Ice pulls all the way out. And even though he’s spread out over a sink in his boss’s house, with so many people down stairs that, if they got caught, both their careers would be ruined, and they’re both still mostly dressed and he can only see Ice if he looks into the mirror, it’s intimate in a way that it’s never been before. 

Maybe it’s not wearing a condom, maybe it’s because they’re risking everything just for this—Ice wrapped around Maverick as he moves inside him, muffling his moans into the material of Maverick’s shirt-covered shoulder, whispering Maverick’s name like a prayer as he fucks him hard and fast—but it makes Maverick’s heart twist along with his balls and he feels himself fall over the edge of his orgasm like he’s in a full nose dive. 

Ice catches his release in his hand, covering the head of Maverick’s cock and he muffles a cry into Maverick’s shoulder as he comes, deep inside Maverick’s ass—and  _ god,  _ Maverick can feel it: hot, wet and pulsing and it makes his cock kick one last rope of come into Ice’s waiting hand. 

Maverick collapses against the sink, boneless, and Ice pants into his shoulder, equally as spent. The lip of the sink is pressing painfully into Maverick’s hips and he shifts, moaning when Ice pulls out, from oversensitivity and the loss. 

Ice grabs some toilet paper and does his best to clean them both up, but when Maverick pulls his pants up and adjusts himself, he can still feel some of Ice’s come leaking out of his ass and it should feel gross and on some level, it  _ is _ gross _.  _ But it makes him feel dirty, used in the best way and it’s a reminder of what they did and he can’t find it in him to care.

Ice looks at him and his eyes are a clear blue—relaxed and happy and something warm settles in Maverick’s chest. Ice leans down and kisses him, soft, sweet, with just a flicker of the earlier heat. 

“We’re definitely doing this again,” he says against Maverick’s lips, nipping at his lower lip with his teeth. 

“What, fuck in Viper’s bathroom?” Maverick asks, slightly confused. He can already feel the arousal pool in his gut and he wonders if this is how it’s always going to be. 

Ice rolls his eyes, “No, dumbass,” he says, voice a mixture of fondness and exasperation and he kisses Maverick’s nose to take some of the heat from the insult, “fucking with out a condom.”

Maverick grins. “Hell  _ yes. _ ”

When they stumble down the stairs (separately), Maverick decidedly ignores the knowing look in Viper’s eyes and he knows they weren't as discreet as they thought they were. 

But when he makes his rounds to say goodbye, itching to get home and see if Ice wants to try Maverick fucking  _ him _ without a condom, Viper gives him a disapproving look. 

“I’m not asking,” he says, keeping his voice low, “but please, for the love of  _ god _ , not in my bathroom.”

Maverick shoots him an apologetic smile that misses by a mile judging by the eye roll Viper gives him. 


	2. The Cockpit of a F-5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice could read Maverick and see past the arrogant and confident veneer that Maverick had perfected and he didn’t let him get away with anything. He gave Maverick a home, in him and his life and it was a solid foundation. 
> 
> And Maverick almost lost it because of someone else’s carelessness today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This one is a bit softer than the last chapter and I'm very pleased with how it came out. I hope you guys like it (: 
> 
> The next chapter is written, but I'm on vacation and tomorrow is my last day and I'm moving when I get home, so I'll try to post it within the next couple of days. I ended up going over this chapter and adding a bit more to it and I plan to do that with every chapter. I'm trying to get better at editing my stories, but there maybe a few mistakes here and there. I do most of my writing at night and some times I miss a few things lol.

  1. _The Cockpit of a F-5_



Maverick’s hands are shaking as he lands the F-5, rolling it to a stop and shutting the engines off. He takes his helmet off and drops it to the floor and _ inhales,  _ trying to calm his racing heart and the panic rolling through him in waves. 

Fuck Cobra—the stupid, arrogant  _ sonofabitch  _ cut Ice off in the air and Ice, unable to avoid it, had to fly through his jet wash and Maverick was forced to watch, in utter horror, as his plane spun and rolled in the air while Ice struggled to get out of the flat spin.

He heard Cobra’s RIO—Shadow—over the comms, voice panicked as he said,  _ mayday mayday, Commander Kazansky is in a flat spin, I repeat, he’s in a flat spin.  _

Maverick felt the terror and fear shoot through him like a bullet and all he could think was  _ no, please, no, not again.  _ It has only been two years since Goose and Maverick is slowly moving on from the accident. He doesn’t flinch as much when one of the students darts past him too fast, his hands don’t shake at the thought of facing flying on his own and he doesn’t feel that overwhelming sense of loss when he thinks of Goose. The pain has dulled to an ache: there, present in his heart, but it doesn’t feel as  _ big _ anymore. 

Ice has been a big part of that—ever since the Layton rescue, when Ice had smiled at him, big and bright and  _ earnest  _ on that aircraft carrier and said in front of God and everyone  _ you can be my wingman anytime.  _ Ice followed him to Top Gun, wanting a break from combat and he admitted to Maverick one night, when they were laying bed in a tangle of limbs, that being in that dogfight, it was the first time he’d ever considered just how quickly it could be over with. It was the first time he’d ever stared his own mortality in the face and he had decided that he wanted to fly, but without the danger. 

Ice has become  _ something _ to Maverick, filling the gaps that had been blown into his heart the day he had to hold Goose’s lifeless body in the ocean. Ice soothes the loneliness and makes Maverick smile and laugh. He challenges him, he never gives in easily and it keeps Maverick on his toes. He can read Maverick and see past the arrogant and confident veneer that Maverick had perfected and he doesn’t let him get away with  _ anything _ . He gives Maverick a home, in him and his life and it is a solid foundation. 

And today Maverick almost lost it because of someone else’s carelessness. 

Maverick stares at the picture of him and Goose he keeps tucked in the corner of the control panel and he feels the air leave his lungs like he’s been punched. The wound in his heart that had been carefully stitched and mended by Ice has been ripped open and he has to swallow back a sob. 

He jumps when he hears a knock on the canopy and he hastily wipes at his eyes, taking a deep breath to settle himself. He slides the canopy open and looks up at whoever knocked—and he should've known that Ice wouldn’t just leave him alone. He never does. 

His wingman, through and through. 

Ice’s face is impassive, but Maverick can see the worry in his eyes as they sweep over Maverick’s face, assessing. And Maverick doesn’t even have the energy to hide. There is no point; Ice can see right through him anyway. 

“I ripped Cobra a new asshole,” Ice says, “stripped him of his points, too. They’ll be lucky to even graduate at this rate, but.” Ice shrugs, uncaring and the vindictive part Maverick is satisfied, but he still doesn't think it’s enough. 

“He could’ve killed someone,” Maverick says, voice hoarse. It’s not what he wants to say, but Ice understands him regardless.

He always does. 

“Worried about me, Mave _ rick _ ?” Ice says, trying for teasing, but Maverick can hear the genuine curiosity underneath the jibe. 

Maverick just looks up at him and he wonders if he looks as helpless as he feels. Because he feels like it’s Goose all over again and all he can see is Ice’s plane and hear his muttered curses and the mild panic in his voice over their shared comms and he’d never felt so powerless in his life. 

Ice must see the anxiety and naked fear in Maverick’s eyes, because his eyes soften around the edges, all pretenses of bravado falling away and he cups Maverick’s cheek in his hand. His thumb caresses Maverick’s cheekbone and Maverick leans into it, releasing a shuddering breath. 

“I’m okay, Mav,” Ice murmurs and Maverick nods, holding Ice’s hand to his cheek and he tries to breathe, but his chest still feels tight with  _ everything,  _ overwhelming his senses and it makes him dizzy. 

Ice can see the oncoming panic attack and he doesn't hesitate to climb in the cockpit, straddling Maverick’s lap and the weight is welcome. It’s a tight fit, but it helps ease the tightness in Maverick’s chest—feeling Ice, touching him, breathing him in, it loosens the chokehold of fear from his throat. Ice cups Maverick’s cheeks in his hands and brushes the pads of his thumbs underneath Maverick’s eyes, encouraging Maverick to look at him and he does, following the silent command easily. 

Ice’s blue eyes are calm, steady, and it reassures Maverick that Ice is  _ here, _ he’s okay and he’s not going anywhere. 

“I want you to listen to me,” Ice commands gently, but his tone books no argument. “It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than some cocky asshole to knock me out of the sky. You have to trust me when I say that I will do everything in my power to make sure nothing takes me away from this,” Ice says, resting his forehead against Maverick’s. “From  _ you,”  _ he adds softly, warm breath ghosting over Maverick’s lips. “Do you trust me, Mav?”

Maverick nods. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat, “I trust you, Ice.”

Ice’s eyes gleam, triumphant, and he places a kiss to Maverick’s nose, sliding his lips over to his left cheek, then his right and it’s gentle, soft,  _ loving  _ and it heats Maverick’s insides. 

Ice brushes his lips against Maverick’s, featherlight and it tickles, but it teases the desire swelling in Maverick’s belly. He falls into it, chasing Ice’s lips with a firm press of his own and Ice melts, sliding his fingers through Maverick’s hair and gripping tightly, pulling him closer. 

It goes from zero to sixty in a blink of an eye and Maverick finds himself desperate to taste, touch, _ feel.  _ Anything to chase away the remaining fear in his heart. To reassure himself that Ice is  _ here, _ whole and completely unharmed.

He cups Ice’s ass, slotting their hips more firmly together and he plunders his tongue into Ice’s mouth, stroking, sucking,  _ tasting  _ and Ice groans, rutting into Maverick’s hold, kissing him back with equal fervor. 

Ice tastes like winter-mint and  _ Ice— _ both hot and cold and sharp and it invades Maverick’s senses like the most intoxicating drug. He feel high with it and he wants  _ more.  _

He wants to crawl inside Ice’s skin, he wants to sink himself into Ice until you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. He wants Ice—to hear his voice say Maverick’s name over and over until it’s the only word he remembers.

Their lips part on a gasp when Maverick grinds his erection into Ice’s ass, wishing more than anything they weren’t in their fight suits and he had easier access. He nips at Ice’s lip, pulling it gently with his teeth and Ice moans, a deep guttural sound, and it makes Maverick’s cock pulse with desire. 

Ice slips his lips down Maverick’s jaw, sucking bruises into his skin and it makes Maverick pant with want. He knows this thing between himself and Ice is dangerous, that if anyone found out, both their careers would be over with. Which is why they have to be careful and while  _ careful  _ has never been a part of Maverick’s MO, he doesn't mind with this. 

And after today, it only confirms what he already knew. 

Ice brings his lips back to Maverick and everything slows for a moment—the feel of Ice’s plush lips on his, their heat, the intensity of it all. There’s a desperate edge to his kisses that’s not always there. He can feel Ice all around him—his fingers buried in Maverick’s hair as he tugs him closer, pressing his lips harder to Maverick’s as if he could imprint himself onto Maverick. Ice’s weight should feel like too much, especially since Ice is so much bigger than Maverick, but it doesn't feel like enough. He’s warm, panting into Maverick’s mouth and Maverick can taste his sweat mixed with his cologne and the soap he used this morning. 

It’s pure fire and desire and want and it’s _ desperate.  _

Maverick pulls away to quickly unzip Ice’s flight suit, his erection straining against his black boxer briefs and in the late afternoon sun, Maverick can see the wet spot already forming and he licks his lips. Ice leans back as far as the control panel will let him, staring at Maverick with blown pupils and kiss swollen lips and the sight is enough for Maverick to pull him back down, attacking his lips at the same time he wraps his hand around Ice’s cock. 

He doesn't tease, he doesn't start slow, he just  _ goes _ for it and Ice just follows his lead, fucking into his fist with tightly controlled thrusts that makes Maverick’s head spin.

“Fuck—Mav, I’m— _ god _ —” Ice pants and Maverick shoves his flight suit down farther and Ice lifts his hips. It’s enough access for Maverick to brush his fingers down Ice’s ass and press them against his fluttering hole and Ice keens. 

“When we get home, I’m gonna open you up properly and fuck you,” Maverick says, voice low and breathless, “take my time, tease you with it until you’re begging for it."

Ice moans, pistoning his hips into Maverick’s grip, “Yes,  _ fuck _ Mav,  _ please _ —“

Maverick flicks his thumb against the leaking head, sliding the pre-cum around the crown and quickening his pace, tightening and twisting his grip on the upstroke and it makes Ice sob. 

The adrenalin and the fear is still coursing hot through their veins and it makes everything quicker, more intense than anything Maverick’s ever experienced. They’re being reckless—out in the open where anyone could see them and it doesn't stop Maverick from wanting this. Wanting  _ Ice— _ writhing and moaning and gasping for air above him.

“That’s it, baby,” Maverick mutters, letting his erection grind against Ice and it’s a promise of what’s to come. He flattens his fingers over Ice’s hole and he lets just the tip of his finger slide into Ice’s tight heat.

It’s dry and tight and it’s enough to have Ice’s hips stuttering in their pace and he looks torn between forcing Maverick’s finger in deeper or continue fucking into Maverick’s fist. 

So Maverick lets him have both, pushing his finger in deeper and sliding his hand down Ice’s cock and that does it. 

Ice comes with a startled cry, falling into Maverick and panting his name between gasps and shudders, “Fuck fuck fuck,  _ Mav, _ Mav, fuck,  _ Pete.” _

Ice rests his forehead against Maverick’s, body still twitching and shaking and Maverick strokes him through it and only lets go when Ice pushes away from his grip. His eyes are a stormy blue of desire and he kisses Maverick hotly, tongue brushing against his lips, fucking it into his mouth. He unzips Maverick’s flight suit and shoves his hand down Maverick’s briefs and it only takes one, two,  _ three  _ rough strokes of Ice’s warm and calloused hand and Maverick is biting Ice’s lip and panting into his mouth while his come splatters against the thin strip of Ice’s skin that’s left exposed from where his t-shirt rode up during their tryst. 

Ice kisses him gently, soothingly, as Maverick comes down and the aftershock of his orgasm wears off to gentle tremors. They rest their foreheads together, breaths mingling, and they gaze into each other’s eyes. Maverick sees Ice’s eyes settle back to that calm blue and he’s gazing at Maverick with so much warmth that it makes Maverick’s chest tighten in a completely foreign but good way. 

Maverick brushes his fingers through Ice’s sweat-matted hair, brushing the strands off his forehead and he cups Ice’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the flush that dusts his cheekbones. 

“When I saw your plane fall into that flat spin I—” He cuts himself off, breathes through his nose, tries to quell that familiar sense of _ not okay not okay _ rising in his chest, “I just—I thought of Goose and it was almost worse this time, because I couldn't try to prevent it. I couldn’t do anything and I almost—“

Ice’s gaze is gentle and soft. “I know,” he murmurs, “but I told you, Mav: It’s going to take a lot more than some cocky pilot to knock me out of the air.”

Maverick nods and something flickers in Ice’s gaze and he hesitates, unsure. Maverick just gazes back at him calmly, and it must give Ice some courage. 

“When I flew through his jet wash, I—” Ice pauses, takes a breath, looks down at Maverick’s dog tags. “I had a moment where I panicked and all I could think about was you and how I—” He breathes sharply through his nose, and Maverick is surprised to hear just how _ not _ in control he sounds. His gaze flickers up to Maverick’s and it’s so raw and vulnerable that Maverick finds himself breathless from it. “I didn’t want to leave you, not like—not like  _ that.” _

He looks unsure and almost  _ shy _ and it melts Maverick’s heart.

Maverick brushes a kiss against his lips and even though it’s soft and not meant to start anything, he can feel a flicker of the earlier heat and it makes his stomach tighten. He almost lost this today and it makes him clutch Ice tighter to him, not wanting to let go.

“I know,” Maverick says, voice almost a whisper, “And I know you wouldn’t,” he adds, “you wouldn’t leave me, not like that, not ever.”

Ice nods, confirming this and they fall silent, lost in their own thoughts. Maverick wishes they could stay like this forever—wrapped up in the warmth of the world they’ve created inside the cockpit, his two favorite things combined: Being inside a plane and inside Ice’s embrace. After a few moments though, Maverick begins to shift uncomfortably and Ice looks down at him, raising a questioning eyebrow. 

“As much as I’d love to sit here for the rest of the afternoon,” Maverick says, “you’re heavy as shit and I’ve got come drying on me and I really need a shower.”

Ice laughs and it’s open and bright and  _ beautiful  _ and it makes Maverick’s heart flutter. In a totally cool way, that is. 

Ice leans down and kisses him and  _ god help him _ , he follows Ice’s lips, always wanting more and it only worsens when Ice pulls away and gives him a shark-like grin, eyes glinting mischievously. 

“I do believe you made me a promise, Commander Mitchell.” Ice says, looking up at Maverick from underneath his lashes. 

“Did I?” Maverick asks mildly, but he gives the game away by swallowing heavily, watching Ice’s tongue as it wets his lower lip teasingly. 

_ Fucker.  _

“Uh huh,” Ice says, brushing a kiss against Maverick’s lips. “I do believe you promised to fuck me, for real. On a bed. And make me beg for it.”

His voice is low and suggestive and even though he came not even ten minutes ago, Maverick already feels the stirrings of arousal in his lower belly and he groans. 

“Fuck, what are we waiting for? Get up and let’s go,” Maverick says, bucking his hips to get Ice off and zipping his flight suit up at the same time. 

Ice just laughs, following Maverick’s lead at a much much slower pace. 

Ice is going to be the death of him, Maverick is sure of this.

And it’s only confirmed, when they get inside the locker room and Ice presses him up against the wall of the shower, the warm spray coating both of their bodies and washing away the sweat and come and fear from earlier. 

His blue eyes are intense as they stare down into Maverick’s curious gaze and it makes the breath leave Maverick’s lungs and something warm settle in his gut. Fondness and arousal—a usual mixture when it came to Ice and  _ this.  _

He cups Maverick’s face in his hands and Maverick will never admit it, but he loves this—being cradled in Ice’s big, strong, capable hands. 

“You know I love you, right?” Ice murmurs, brushing his thumb against Maverick’s cheekbone, icy blue eyes melted into a warm pool of sapphire. His voice is soft, but matter of fact, the words carefully measured as he says them. 

They don’t say the words very often, but when they do, Maverick holds the moment close, savors it. Because it’s the only time he can ever remember someone saying those words to him and actually meaning it. 

“I do,” Maverick whispers back, placing his hands over Ice’s and he tangles their fingers together. “I love you, too, you know.” He places his lips against their intertwined hands, his gaze never leaving Ice’s, who looks back at him evenly, but he can see the way Ice’s eyes glimmer. 

He stands up on his tiptoes and Ice meets him half way, their lips brushing together gently. 

“So much,” Maverick breathes and Ice follows it with his lips, brushing his thumb over the back of Maverick’s hand. 

_ Ditto. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think in the comments below. :)


	3. Maverick's (new) Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Staring at my ass doesn't count as “doing things”.” Ice says, and the smug asshole even uses air quotes with his long tanned fingers that does not, under any circumstances, make Maverick’s mind wander with just how good and talented those fingers are. 
> 
> Maverick tries for a smirk, “No, but it could,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, brushing his fingers teasingly along the pockets of Ice’s lowriding jeans, “if you want it to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo all! Here's another installment and I hope you guys like it ! Updates have been quick because I've been on vacation for ten days, which gave me time to write this and post regular updates, but I go back to work tomorrow and I'm also moving this week. So the next two chapters might take a few days to post, but I promise this willl get finished. I'm having way too much fun putting these two into sexy situations (:
> 
> This was edited but I might've missed some things while glancing over it, so please excuse any mistakes
> 
> Continuous thank you's to boa and thecarlysutra for supporting me through this journey and giving me feedback, it gives me so much joy to read your reactions and letting me know how I'm doing!
> 
> Also, some light sub/dom situations, I'm not sure if I should warn, but just in case!
> 
> Enjoy (:

  1. _Maverick’s (New) Office_



Maverick is officially the head of Top Gun and while it comes with a nice pay raise and a new promotion, Maverick didn’t anticipate the amount of moving he’d have to do. He is now in Viper’s old office, which is bigger and more spacious than the shoebox he was in. But that also meant he had to move  _ all  _ of his files and _ all  _ of belongings to his new office, as well as go through all of Viper’s files and throw out ones he didn’t need and reorganize the ones he did need—to combine the new and the old. 

The biggest bonus is he is now right next door to Ice’s office and he was already thinking up a list of bullshit excuses he could use to visit Ice or get Ice to come into his office. He couldn’t wait to use the intercom system he’d had installed in both of their offices (that Ice had no idea about; Maverick had done it when he was away in Huntington Beach, visiting his parents and sisters after the last class ended. Ice was honestly probably going to kill him, but. Worth it.). 

And another perk, Maverick thinks to himself as he watches Ice walk through his open door, arms laden down with boxes, is the  _ view.  _

Ice’s blond hair is matted with sweat, his Top Gun t-shirt snug around his biceps as they flex and shift as he stacks the boxes in a neat pile against the far wall. His jeans hug his ass in the best way every time he bends over to straighten out a wayward box, a look of pure concentration on his face, and Maverick licks his dry lips. He startles when Ice stands up and in his haste to pretend like he wasn't just checking out Ice’s shapely jean-clad ass, the file Maverick is holding slips through his fingers and lands on the floor in a mess of papers. 

Ice raises a perfectly-shaped blond eyebrow, lips twitching upwards in amusement. “You alright there, Mav?”

Cursing under his breath, Maverick squats down to shuffle up the papers, not bothering to organize them as he tosses them on top of his empty desk. He can feel the stirring in his gut and the flush in his cheeks as Ice stands there and watches his every move.

“I’m fine, I just got distracted,” Maverick mutters, standing back up. He fiddles with a box on his desk, trying to look busy. 

“You sure?” Ice murmurs, suddenly right next to Maverick. “You look a little  _ flushed.  _ Are you warm, Mav _ erick? _ ” 

He can feel the heat of Ice’s body next to him and he raises his eyes, staring at Ice defiantly. “It’s hot in here, Ice. And we’ve been moving boxes for almost an hour, of course I’m a little flushed and warm.”

Ice just smirks, taking a step closer, the fabric of his t-shirt brushing the skin of Maverick’s arm, “ _ I’ve _ been moving boxes all day, while  _ you’ve _ been here, shuffling papers around, trying to look busy.”

Maverick rolls his eyes, ignoring his heart pounding in his chest as Ice sidles right up behind Maverick, trapping him between the desk and Ice’s chest. Ice’s body is hot and sweaty from lifting and carrying boxes, blanketing Maverick in pure  _ heat.  _

“I’ve done things today,” Maverick says defensively, spinning around to pin Ice with an annoyed glare and Ice just arches his brow. 

“Staring at my ass doesn't count as “doing things”,” Ice says, and the smug asshole even uses air quotes with his long tanned fingers that do  _ not,  _ under any circumstances, make Maverick’s mind wander with just how good and talented those fingers are. 

Maverick tries for a smirk. “No, but it could,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, brushing his fingers teasingly along the pockets of Ice’s lowriding jeans, “if you want it to.” 

He runs his fingers down the seam of Ice’s jeans, pressing his fingers _ just so  _ between Ice’s asscheeks, where he knows his hole is and he’s rewarded with dilated pupils and a hitch in Ice’s breathing for his effort. 

“Maverick,” Ice says, voice low and full of warning, “we don’t have time for this; we only have until five to get all your stuff out of—“

Maverick cuts him off with a kiss, licking into Ice’s mouth and Ice groans, sliding his fingers into Maverick’s hair, tugging in a way that makes arousal zing down his spine and his cock harden in his jeans when Ice pulls him closer. For a moment, Maverick lets Ice have control, savoring the taste of his lips and the feel of his tongue doing devious things to his mouth that have him seeing stars behind his eyelids. Other than a quick good morning peck, they haven't touched each other all day and Maverick is  _ starving  _ for it. 

Ice pulls away first, but Maverick isn't done yet. With a sound that is most definitely  _ not  _ a whine, he tangles his fingers into the shorn hairs at the nape of Ice’s neck and tugs his lips back down to his own. Ice’s chuckle reverberates through his own chest and the vibrations make Maverick shiver, a surge of _ want _ coursing through him like a wave and he bites Ice’s bottom lip, sucking it harshly and he’s rewarded with a moan of approval from Ice. 

Ice grips Maverick’s ass, picking him up and setting him down on top of the desk and Maverick registers in the back of his brain that he should feel a little emasculated at being manhandled, but it just makes his head spin and a groan leave his lips that’s swallowed by Ice plunging his tongue down his throat. 

At this angle, Maverick is the same height as Ice and he uses it to his advantage. Parting his lips from Ice’s, he slides his lips down Ice’s burning skin, sucking at his jaw and grinding his cock against Ice’s own throbbing erection, making them both moan. 

“Mav,” Ice pants, grunting when Maverick grips him through his jeans, “we— _ fuck _ , can’t—not— _ shit fuck that’s so good _ —not here.”

Maverick ignores him, more interested in following Ice’s bobbing Adam’s apple with his lips, flicking his tongue out to taste the saltiness of Ice’s skin. Ice cuts himself off with a moan when Maverick adds his teeth, nipping the skin, and Ice tilts his head back to give Maverick more room to explore the warm and tan terrain. 

He sucks the taut skin of his neck, nibbling at the golden skin and corded muscle, tracing a path up to his ear, blowing gently against his earlobe and it makes Ice shiver. 

“I want you to strut your sexy ass over to the door and close it,” Maverick murmurs, kissing the skin behind Ice’s ear, “and when you come back, I want to spread you out on this desk and fuck you,” Maverick continues, nibbling on Ice’s earlobe.

Maverick sucks a final bruise into Ice’s neck before he pulls away and gives Ice his sexy smile that he knows melts Ice’s resolve quicker than a popsicle on the Fourth of July. 

“Off you go, Commander,” Maverick says, giving Ice’s ass a light slap. 

Ice, amazingly, complies without complaint, rushing over to the door and closing it, flicking the lock and pulling the blinds down over the window. He makes sure all the other blinds are shut tight before he makes his way back over to Maverick, a look of pure fire simmering in his blue eyes. 

Maverick holds up a hand, stopping Ice in his tracks, who gives him a confused look. He looks unsure, like he’s not sure if Maverick wants this anymore and it twists Maverick’s heart in an unpleasant way. He’s always going to want Ice, in any way Ice wants to give himself to Maverick. 

“Take your clothes off,” Maverick commands in a whisper and it seems to reassure Ice, who relaxes and complies, albeit at a slower pace, just to be a tease. 

“You’re bossy today,” Ice says as he kicks his boots off, toeing out of his socks.

Maverick gives him a smug smile. “That’s because I’m officially the boss, as of today. Now hurry up.”

“Are you trying to take advantage of me, Captain Mitchell?” Ice asks, batting his eyelashes innocently, but it’s countered when Ice’s fingers go to the buttonhole of his jeans, teasing the button out of its grasp. He makes a show of running his fingers down the obvious bulge in the front of his jeans, his cock straining against the material and Maverick tracks the movement with his eyes. 

“It’s not taking advantage, Commander, when you’re offering yourself up to me on a silver platter,” Maverick counters, swallowing when Ice lets his jeans drop around his ankles, kicking them off his mile-long legs, leaving him in just his boxer briefs and his t-shirt. The outline of his cock is more pronounced and in this lighting, Maverick can see the darker skin through the white material, a wet spot already forming. 

_ Ice is actually into this _ , Maverick marvels,  _ not only that, but he’s getting off on it. Interesting. _

“I just want to be good, Captain,” Ice simpers, lifting the hem of his t-shirt, giving Maverick a flash of that tanned and toned skin that he just wanted to drop to his knees and kiss  _ everywhere.  _

“And do you think you’ve been a good boy, Commander?” Maverick asks as Ice lifts his t-shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor and onto the growing pile of clothes. His skin gleams in the florescent lighting, emphasizing every dip and curve of his abs, the sharp _ v _ of his hip bones that lead  _ downwards _ .

“I’ve followed all of your orders, Captain,” Ice says, fluttering his impossibly long blond eyelashes, biting his lower lip teasingly as his wandering fingers trail down his stomach to the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Have you?” Maverick murmurs. He can see the smattering of blond hair appear as he slowly pushes his underwear to his feet. His cock slaps against his stomach, flushed red at the tip and it bobs heavily between his legs when Ice kicks his underwear to the side. 

Ice stands before him in all his naked glory, wearing nothing but his dog tags and Maverick feels his mouth water at the miles of open territory he can sink his teeth into. 

“ _ Yessir _ ,” Ice says, voice breathy, “I have.”

“Come here,” Maverick whispers and Ice complies with his request, skin glinting, muscles rippling, gait graceful and he stops when his thighs brush Maverick’s knees. Maverick stands up from his position on his desk and stands behind Ice, his eyes flicking over every inch of him. His strong back, the smattering of freckles over his shoulders, the way his trim waist leads to the curve of his perfectly round ass, down his thighs that are thick with corded muscles that flex when Ice shifts impatiently. 

He’s so fucking beautiful and not for the first time, Maverick marvels at the fact that Ice is  _ his. His _ . And no one else’s.

Maverick brushes his fingers down Ice’s back, placing a gentle hand between Ice’s shoulderblades, kissing his tan shoulder and he feels Ice’s breathing hitch. He slides his lips up the back of Ice’s neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under his lips, smells the soap he used in the shower this morning and his heart twists in his chest when Maverick recognizes it as his own. 

“I want you to bend over the desk,” Maverick orders softly, letting his words brush over Ice’s skin, “and spread those pretty legs for me.”

Ice shivers, folding his body over the desk, resting his cheek against the cool wooden surface. Maverick swallows at the sight of his cock dangling between his legs, his firm ass up in the air, cheeks spread apart with Ice’s legs and Maverick can see his fluttering hole and a frisson of want slides down his spine. 

Maverick cups his right ass cheek in his hand, trailing his fingers over the curve of his skin and Ice shudders, but doesn't say anything. Ice is tense with anticipation, unsure of what Maverick wants to do to him and Maverick rubs his lower back reassuringly. 

“You didn’t follow all my orders, Commander,” Maverick informs him, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “I told you to undress quickly,” he continues, running his fingers down Ice’s ass, touch feather light, before he pulls his hand back and swats the curve of Ice’s right cheek, not hard, but with enough force that he knows Ice feels it. 

Ice shouts out in surprise and Maverick sees his cock dripping between his legs and it makes something possessive curl in his stomach.

“And you didn’t, you decide to be a  _ tease _ .” Another swat and Ice squirms against the desk, moaning. “If I wanted a show, Commander, I would’ve asked for it.” He lands another smack against his ass, this time on the left cheek and he adds a little more strength behind it and it has Ice whimpering, bucking his hips into the edge of the desk. 

Maverick yanks his hips back, tutting in disapproval, “Oh no, baby,” Maverick purrs, “you don’t get to feel anything against your cock, not yet.”

“Mav,” Ice pants, “ _ Please.” _

Maverick hums, rubbing both hands over Ice’s ass, letting his fingers trail teasingly between his cheeks and Ice pushes back against his hand, groaning lowly and Maverick swats his ass, cupping his hand so it catches on the curve of his cheek and Ice throws his ass back in pleasure, moaning so loud Maverick is glad no one else is one base. 

They’re all alone and no one will be around to hear the sounds Maverick can pull from Ice and it makes Maverick’s cock twitch in his jeans.

“I love it when you beg,” Maverick murmurs, placing a kiss against the middle Ice’s back, “Makes my cock so hard.” He grinds his jean-clad cock against Ice’s ass for emphasis and Ice keens, spreading his legs wider, wanting to feel it. “Do you want my cock, baby? Want it to stretch your hole, fuck you hard and fast?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Ice pants and the look he shoots Maverick over his shoulder has Maverick taking a breath, trying to get his arousal under control before he comes in his pants and shatters this whole game to pieces. “Please, Mav, I need—fuck, need you,  _ please.” _

Sweat is sliding down his temples and his blue eyes are blown wide with arousal and desperation. His lips are red and swollen from where he’d been bitting them and Maverick thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful. 

“Do you trust me?” Maverick asks softly, running his hands down Ice’s sides, wanting to get him to settle. 

“With my life,” Ice replies without missing a beat and underneath the heat of arousal Maverick sees nothing but honesty shining in his eyes. 

He presses a kiss between Ice’s shoulderblades, letting his lips travel down the bumps and rivets of his spine, sucking bruises along the way, watching the skin flash white and then flush red as he pulls the blood to the surface. 

Ice closes his eyes and hums, some of his earlier desperation seeping away under Maverick’s lips and Maverick has to stop himself from smirking as he slips to his knees. His lips are trailing over Ice’s ass, biting gently at the reddened skin from his slaps and Ice shifts, craning his neck over his shoulder when Maverick parts his cheeks further, exposing his fluttering hole. 

“Mav, what— _ oh my fucking god,”  _ Ice moans as Maverick tongue licks a stripe from his perineum to his hole and he shudders under Maverick’s grip, falling against the desk. 

Maverick hums and Ice keens, bucking his hips wildly when Maverick swirls his tongue around the hole before he flicks the center of it with the tip of his tongue, probing gently before repeating the process, alternating between licking and sucking.

“Fuck, Mav,  _ holy shit _ , fuck—“ he whimpers and Maverick grins, scraping his teeth very,  _ very  _ gently along the sensitive skin and Ice fucks back into his grasp, panting and gasping and Maverick knows he’s not going to last much longer. 

Maverick had this done to him  _ once  _ and the idea had been floating around in his brain for a while but he wasn’t sure if it was something Ice would want. Ice is the more experienced one when it came to the … _ gayer  _ sexual activities, having been with more guys than Maverick and Ice had never brought this particular activity up, so Maverick never thought much of it. 

Until today, when the sight of his ass in those jeans had been way too much for Maverick to handle. 

He lets his hands wander, running up Ice’s strong thighs, brushing over his ass and it makes Ice shift restlessly as Maverick’s tongue continues to devour him. He focuses his effort at the center of his hole, flicking his tongue harshly, fucking his tongue into Ice like he would his fingers and Ice bucks helplessly into Maverick’s ministrations, grinding back onto Maverick’s tongue, riding it like he does Maverick’s cock. He slips his hand between Ice’s legs and cups his balls, rolling them in his grasp and when he presses his knuckle into the perineum, Ice’s back bows and he comes against the desk with a sharp cry of Maverick’s name.

“Fuck, Maverick, baby,  _ god _ , fuck,  _ so good, _ ” Ice whimpers, body shaking with the effort of his orgasm and Maverick doesn't let up, riding out every wave and drawing out his pleasure until Ice is whining and pushing Maverick away. 

He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking at Ice collapsed against the desk in a panting heap. 

“That was— _ fuck _ —where did—how did you—” Ice pants, looking over his shoulder at Maverick in wonder and Maverick preens, rubbing Ice’s lower back, right above the curve of his ass.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Maverick says, pressing kisses onto Ice’s back. His cock aches and it’s straining painfully in the front of his jeans and he reaches down and pops the button, sliding the zipper down and he doesn't bother to lower his jeans, just reaches into his briefs and pulls his aching cock out. 

“Wanna fuck you,” Maverick says, running the tip against Ice’s wet hole and Ice shudders, still sensitive but he can see the want lurking in those icy blue depths. “Think you can handle it?”

Ice nods quickly. “Yes, want to feel it, feel you—“ He breaks off in a moan when Maverick pushes the tip through the rim of his hole and he’s loose, but not loose enough for Maverick to fit inside him comfortably. 

He goes to pull out, but Ice’s grip holds him in place, “Just—want it—“

Maverick hesitates. “Are you sure? I can open you up a bit more—“

Ice shakes his head. “No, I—” He shudders, bucks his hips and it makes more of Maverick slide in further and they both moan, “I want it like this, _ please.” _

Maverick complies, pushing himself in to the hilt and he knows, as he waits, gives Ice time to adjust, that this is going to be over before it can even begin. He fucks into Ice, hard and fast and he’s so tight and warm around Maverick’s cock, the fit perfect and squeezing him just  _ right.  _

“God, Ice,” Maverick mutters, snapping his hips harshly into Ice’s ass, “you have no idea— _ fuck— _ how fucking hot— _ shit fuck— _ you are— _ Jesus _ the sounds you make—”

Ice’s eyelashes flutter against his flushed cheeks as he watches Maverick over his shoulder and he moans, “Mav, feels so good—right there,  _ yes _ , fuck—”

Maverick thrusts harshly into Ice’s prostate, nailing it in quick succession and Ice is whimpering in pleasure and pain and god if that’s not the hottest combination, Maverick thinks to himself. 

“Want you to come again for me,” Maverick says, slowing his hips to an easy grind that both frustrates and teases him in the best way. Ice is shaking from the sensitivity, but with a quick brush of his hand between his legs, Maverick can feel his dick already hard again. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

He snaps his hips forward for emphasis and Ice moans brokenly, nodding. “Want to, please, Mav, make me come.”

Maverick speeds up his thrusts, fucking into Ice with so much force the desk shudders under them. He aims for his prostate and when Ice’s face scrunches in pain, Maverick eases off, slowing down to a slow grind that has him teetering on the edge. 

“You take my cock so well,” Maverick says, starting the cycle over and Ice is practically clawing at the desk at this point, cock flushed an angry red where it lays heavy between his legs. “You’ve been such a good boy today, baby, so good for me, trusting me, letting me bend you over the desk and eat out your hole—”

Ice groans, blue eyes dazed and hazy with pleasure and Maverick has to stop himself from coming by sheer force of will. 

“You liked that didn’t you?” Maverick continues, letting his dick grind right into Ice’s prostate and he can see Ice’s breathing pick up, see his muscles twitch and coil under his skin, “my tongue fucking into your hole, licking you, tasting you like  _ that— _ you tasted so good baby.”

“Yes, Mav, yes—“ Ice whimpers, fucking back onto Maverick’s cock. He’s beautiful like this—out of control and  _ desperate _ . His blond hair is matted with sweat, blue eyes wide and swimming with so much heat and pleasure, lips kiss swollen and bitten raw. Trusting Maverick to get him to the edge again and catch him when he falls over it.

“Come for me, baby,” Maverick murmurs, voice gentle, _ loving.  _ “Come for me, Tom, you’ve been so good for me baby, proud of you, taking me so good,  _ come for me. _ ”

Ice’s eyelashes flutter, lips parting and he comes with a pant of Maverick’s name, arching his back and covering the desk with three,  _ four _ thick ropes. He looks at Maverick over his shoulder with heavily-lidded eyes as he shakes and shudders through his orgasm and he’s so fucking beautiful that it makes Maverick’s heart squeeze and his dick twitch and he comes, falling onto Ice’s back, shaking and moaning. 

His hips twitch, riding out the wave of his orgasm and Ice clenches his hole around Maverick’s cock, letting him use his body to absorb the last flickers of pleasure and Maverick stills, resting his forehead between Ice’s shoulderblades. 

They’re both panting like they ran a marathon and Maverick feels spent to the point he’s afraid he won’t be able to stand. But his sweat is cooling and he’s covered in come and his dick is too sensitive to be inside Ice, so he pulls out gently, tucking himself back into his pants. 

Ice flips himself over and Maverick is hit with the full force of him—with his bright blue eyes and he looks like a  _ Playgirl _ centerfold—laid out on the desk, covered in hickeys and come and sweat. Hair ruffled and lips swollen and red. He looks thoroughly fucked and if Maverick wasn't so damn tired, he’d be up for round two. 

He helps Ice sit up, handing him his clothes and digging through his boxes until he comes up triumphantly with an old t-shirt, which he uses to mop up the come on Ice’s stomach and between his thighs. 

“I need a shower,” Ice mutters and Maverick hums in agreement, tossing the shirt on the floor to take home and wash when they leave. 

Ice pulls Maverick in for a kiss and he melts into it, smoothing his hands over Ice’s chest and wrapping his arms around his neck. 

“I think someone is letting their promotion go to their head,” Ice says, pulling away to give Maverick a smirk. 

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy every second of it,” Maverick says, smirking right back at him. 

Ice flutters his lashes mockingly. “I was just trying to be a good boy, Captain.”

Maverick snorts out a laugh, rolling his eyes and burying his face in Ice’s neck, wondering if it’s possible to fall asleep standing up. He feels relaxed and languid and he hums when he feels Ice’s fingers in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. 

“So did you actually need my help today or did you have this planned all along?” Ice wonders after a beat of silence. 

Maverick just hums, snuggling further into Ice’s hold, “You’re smart Kazansky, you figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? I was nervous to write this because I'm still new to m/m sex scenes but I'm learning. Hope you enjoyed it (:


	4. Maverick's Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maverick used to think there was nothing in the world he could love more than flying. The freedom, the thrill of going over eight hundred miles an hour and soaring high above the clouds, the rush that he got when he landed that ensured his hands didn’t stop shaking for days. 
> 
> But then there was the Layton rescue and Ice giving him a smile so bright and beautiful it rivaled the sun and his murmur of you can be my wingman anytime.
> 
> Maverick would gladly clip his own wings if it meant he could have Ice forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I know it's been a while since this story was updated, but life has been ac crazy roller coaster the last few months and things have finally settled down to where I sit down and write this out. This has been partially written since I started this story and I had originally planned this to be the end of it, but I've changed my mind a little on the layout for this and I'm really pleased with how this turned out. 
> 
> Also--as a side note, it was brought to my attention by a reader of this story that I had been neglecting certain things when it came to the description of the sex between Ice and Mav, they were bothered by my lack of the characters using lube and proper prep and that it takes them out of the story. I took their advice and added it here, but I was just curious if anyone else felt this way? I did like adding it, it felt like it added a level of intimacy and realness to the story, so thank you for that comment, I'm new to this still and I really appreciated the tip!
> 
> Thank you guys for waiting for me to get back in the groove of things, hopefully the final chapter will be posted within the next week or so. Thank you thank you for the continued love on this story, it means so much to me. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

4.

_ Maverick’s Spot (the jetty) _

The sky is a mixture of yellows and oranges and it glints off the metal exterior of the planes taking off into the sky and Maverick watches, enraptured. To most people, the sound of planes taking off is loud and obnoxious, but to Maverick, it is like a soothing balm over his shaky nerves and it always settles him, like a lullaby would a baby. That, mixed with the sound of the waves lapping gently against the jetty, had Maverick’s boiling anger melting away as he leans against the bike and just  _ breathes.  _

He’d been so angry when he came here—muscles coiled tight and itching to release it on to someone or something. He wanted to feel his knuckles split against something, feel the satisfying sensation of bone crunching against his skin and he wanted someone to hurt as badly as he did. 

He’d been having a good day. They were in between classes, he didn’t have much paperwork to do and he got to go home early on a Friday. They had the whole weekend ahead of them without any work in sight. He’d swung by their favorite Chinese place to pick up dinner to surprise Ice—he’d even gone out of his way to stop at their favorite bakery to pick up dessert: chocolate cupcakes with the cream cheese frosting, Ice’s all time favorite that he only indulged in every once in a while. Maverick was almost sure he loved those cupcakes more than he loved Maverick. It didn’t help that Ice told him that on every occasion he allowed himself to have one and yeah,  _ okay _ , they were good, but not that  _ good.  _

Maverick took the food home and set the table, even going as far to light candles and pour Ice wine—and not the boxed kind, either. The good stuff they’d gotten in Napa Valley on a weekend trip they’d taken on a whim. He was feeling romantic and spontaneous and he knew he’d been busier than usual lately and they hadn’t had much time for each other, so he wanted to take the unexpected opportunity and do something nice for his… _boyfriend?_ _Partner?_ _House-husband?_ They’d been together for almost two-and-a-half years and they never did settle on a term to define their relationship. 

They were just  _ IceandMav.  _ They were each other’s wingman and Maverick always thought that term worked best for them. However, that was an odd thing to call someone who sucked your dick on a regular basis and also bitched at you for leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor six out of the seven days of the week. 

Ice got home later than usual, which was odd, because if Maverick had gotten out early, Ice—who had less administrative bullshit to deal with than Maverick—should’ve been home even earlier. But Maverick rolled with it, greeted him as usual with a kiss that was  _ just _ this side of indecent and informed him that he was off the hook for cooking tonight (Maverick was shit at cooking and Ice usually took pity on him and fed him every night in exchange for Maverick doing the clean up). 

It wasn't until Maverick was halfway through his  _ General Tso’s  _ and on his second spring roll that he realized that Ice was… _ off.  _

It wasn't unusual for Ice to be on the quieter side of things, hell Maverick could talk enough for the both of them, but tonight was different. Maverick prided himself on being able to read Ice pretty well, having been with him for so long and spending a load of time with him, but he must’ve been too caught up in the excitement at getting an early day with Ice that he didn’t notice right away. 

So he set his fork down—he may be able to navigate the open skies and fly several different types of jets, complicated control panels and all, but he’d never been able to understand how to operate chopsticks—and watched Ice trail his chopsticks—Ice just had to be good at  _ everything— _ through his white rice and lo mein with a distracted look on his face. 

“Hey,” he said, prompting Ice to look up at him, “are you okay?”

Impassive blue eyes stared right back at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Something like unease flickered through Maverick at his easy deflection. While Ice may be _ the Iceman _ — _ Mr. Ice Cold, No Mistakes— _ it had been a long time since he’d put that front up with Maverick. 

“Are you sure?” Maverick asked, unsure, flickering his gaze over Ice’s tense form, “Because you’re being awfully quiet over there and you didn’t even criticize the flower I picked for the center of the table.” He gestured to the wilting pink rose resting in the center of the table in a paper Dixie cup. “Which was taken from your rose beds, by the way, which you also didn’t yell at me for.”

The muscle in Ice’s jaw twitched and he tossed his chopsticks down across his plate with a clatter that made Maverick jump. 

“Ice,” Maverick frowned, really worried now, “what—“

“I talked to Viper today,” Ice said, cutting him off. “That’s why I was late.”

Maverick’s eyebrows furrowed. “Okay,” he said slowly, “did he bring up the bathroom incident again? Because he really has no proof, those stains could've already been there—“

“I’m thinking about returning to active duty,” Ice said, voice even and sharp, like ripping off a band aid. 

Maverick swallowed, feeling his stomach twist and suddenly, he wasn't so hungry anymore. He pushed his plate away, feeling sick and he eyed the still full glass of wine sitting next to his plate and he wondered how much headway he’d have to make into it for this conversation to be tolerable. 

He stared at Ice, trying to look for signs that this was a joke, but as much as he could wish for it, he knew Ice and this wasn't a joke. His blue eyes were watching Maverick with a cool and detached stare, jaw set, face impenetrable as a fucking brick wall. 

_ Fuck  _

“How—” Maverick looked down at the tablecloth, brushing his finger over the worn pattern. “How long have you been thinking about this?” he asked, clearing his throat. He flicked his gaze up to Ice, trying to ignore his racing heart. 

“A while,” Ice admitted after a moment of silence and it took everything for Maverick not to flinch. “I like teaching, but I miss it sometimes, you know? Feeling like I’m helping out in a bigger way than just pushing pilots through the program and grading papers. I miss the thrill, too, the missions, the feeling of flying through the air and defending my country.”

Ice looked away, out the window, and Maverick knew it wasn't their front yard he was seeing. “Slider called me a few weeks ago and told me the guy he’d been flying with was almost out and he’d told his Commander about me.” Ice shrugged. “I told him I’d think about it.”

Maverick thought that Ice could’ve picked up the butterknife and flayed his heart open right there in the middle of table and it probably would've hurt less. 

“And have you come to a decision?” he asked, forcing himself to keep his tone level and even. Maverick may not be Iceman, but he sure as hell knew how to keep his emotions in check when the situation called for it. 

Ice slid his gaze back to Maverick. “I wanted to get your input.”

Maverick snorted and it wasn't amused, not in the least. “Sounds like you already made up your mind.”

He jerked his chair back from the table and grabbed his plate, making his way over to the sink. He was afraid if he sat at that table for much longer, he might jump across it and smack the impassive look from Ice’s face. 

Ice sighed, annoyed. “Obviously I haven’t if I’m bringing it up now.”

Maverick threw his plate in the sink with more force than necessary and it shattered, and Ice, the asshole, never even flinched. 

Maverick could feel the forced calm slipping and the anger that felt a lot more like _ hurt  _ wrap around his heart in a death grip. 

“Bullshit, Kazansky,” Maverick spat with so much venom he could see the flicker of regret in Ice’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly he wasn't even sure if it had really been there. “You’ve been sitting on this for God knows how long and you’re only just now bothering to tell me so you can pretend like I have any sort of say in a decision you’ve already made.”

He spun on his heel and darted out of the kitchen, grabbing his keys from the table in the hallway and shoving his feet into his boots by the door. He heard the scraping of a chair on the linoleum and the soft sounds of footsteps over the carpet, but he ignored them, grabbing his wallet from the bowl they kept on the table and tossed their stuff in when they came in the door. 

“Mav, just wait a fucking minute,  _ Jesus _ —” Ice demanded, grabbing his wrist, but Maverick shook him off like he’d been burned. 

“What’s left to say, Ice _ man?”  _ Maverick demanded, emphasizing the last syllable of his callsign mockingly; the way he knew Ice absolutely  _ hated _ . “You want to leave, go a head and go, I’m not going to stop you. You’ve made your decision and you didn’t even have the balls to talk to me about it. You can sit here and pretend like you want my opinion on this all you want, but you’re only fooling yourself. So go ahead and go be a good little pilot and serve your country and send me a fucking postcard when you get there.”

He opened the door but Ice put his hand on the door and slammed it shut, putting his other hand on Maverick’s shoulder to spin him around and face him.

Ice’s cool was slipping and Maverick couldn’t even feel some level of satisfaction in it; he was too damn angry and hurt and he wanted to  _ leave.  _

“I thought you would understand,” Ice said and before he could even open his mouth, Maverick cut him off, shoving Ice’s hand off his shoulder. 

“Understand what?” Maverick demanded, eyes blazing, “That you’re bored and you want some more cheap thrills to get your dick hard?”

“ _ God _ , Maverick, you are so—” Ice cut himself off, shaking his head. “I just want to do something more with my life than being a damn pencil pusher and a babysitter. I didn’t join the Navy to be a teacher or a has been, I wanted to be a pilot, to fly missions and save people and do something  _ important.  _ I didn’t want to be tied down or—or stuck in the same position for years on end, doing the same thing, over and over—”

Maverick recoiled as if he’d been slapped, gritting his teeth to absorb the direct hit and not crumble from it like he so desperately wanted to do. He breathed deeply through his nose and once he felt like he could function without wanting to fall apart, he met Ice’s eyes and this time, the regret was more prominent in those blue depths. 

“Mav,” Ice said, voice soft, pleading, “I didn’t—“

“You know what Kazansky?” Maverick said, voice low, calm and it was forced, even to his own ears. “Do whatever the fuck you want to do. Go back to Slider, fly your missions, be the  _ Iceman _ and the hero, whatever will make you feel good about yourself. Don’t expect your little tie to still be here when you decide you’re fucking bored of being  _ something more important,” _ he mocked, shaking his head in disgust. 

“Mav, please wait—” Ice pleaded, but Maverick ignored him. 

“Have a nice life, Kazansky.” Maverick spat, yanking the door open roughly. He grabbed his jacket off the hook where it was hanging next to Ice’s like it had been for the better part of a year. Ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes and the racing heart that felt like it was being torn in two, he stomped down the porch steps and to his awaiting bike.

He didn’t look back at Ice, even though he could feel his gaze on him as he revved his bike’s engine and tore off down the street. 

He drove along the beach for an hour before he found himself at his usual spot—the jetty down by the airstrip. And he’d been here ever since. 

Maverick watches the water roll along the rocks as he begins to methodically go over his options, step by step, in his tired brain, ignoring the painful throb of his heart. 

He’ll have to go back to the house and get some clothes, but he can wait until he knows Ice is asleep. He’ll have to find some place to stay until Ice moves all of this things out—the house, legally, is Maverick’s. He bought it when they’d settled into more of  _ something _ , wanting some place off base where their constant sleepovers wouldn’t raise eyebrows. Plus, he’d always wanted a place to call his own, never having had that before.

They split the utilities, so Maverick will have to transfer them all into his name. Most of the furniture they bought together and Maverick figured that what Ice didn’t want, he would keep and vice versa or Ice could put in storage once he…gets a place of his own or whatever it was he wants to do. 

They still have three weeks until the next class comes through. He could always call Carole and go stay with her and Bradley for a while. It’s been a while since he made a trip to Texas and it would give Ice enough time to transfer out of Top Gun and Maverick’s life and go on his merry fucking way. 

_ God, _ Maverick thought to himself bitterly, kicking at a loose rock in the grass,  _ first Charlie and now Ice.  _

Ithurt when Charlie took her job offer in D.C. and left town without so much as a backward glance, but that was nothing compared to  _ this…  _ this empty ache he feels in his chest when he thinks of Ice leaving and taking the life they built together over the last two-and-a-half years with him. 

He thought they’d been happy, together, in this little piece of the world they’d carved out for each other. Maverick knows he is. He loves waking up to Ice every morning, getting to see him sleeping all soft and vulnerable in the early morning light that filters through their window. He loves sneaking into Ice’s shower and making him coffee and handing him a cup over his shoulder as he makes them breakfast at the stove. He loves coming home to him and falling into bed with him, making love to him every night and falling asleep to the sound of his heavy breathing. He loves fighting over laundry and whose turn it is to vacuum the living room or take out the trash and doing bills with him on Sunday in the warm light of their kitchen. Dancing in the late night hours to his mother’s old records and hearing Ice’s warm voice sing the words into his ear. 

Ice is  _ everything  _ Maverick ever wanted in life and so much more than he could ever dreamed of. Ice is something solid to lean against when he needs it, a grounding presence that keeps Maverick tethered to the Earth. He makes Maverick laugh, even when the jokes are at his own expense. He makes him feel safe when the nightmares of a red sea and a lifeless body wake Maverick in the middle of the night. He is someone that gives Maverick the love and affection he always craved and spent his whole life trying to find. He challenges Maverick and fights with him, usually after Maverick does something stupid that takes a few years off of Ice’s life. 

Ice is the family he always craved and thought he lost after Goose. He is his  _ wingman,  _ protecting him and loving him ever since his life blew up in his face. 

Or at least Maverick thought. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels the tear tracks cool against his cheeks when the ocean breeze blew through the evening air. 

Maverick wipes at his face harshly, trying to hold on to anger but it slips and morphs into a hurt so deep he finds it harder and harder to breathe. He hasn’t felt this level of loss since Goose and it hurts to think that out of everyone that had decided to up and leave Maverick’s life, Ice would be the one to do it in the cruelest of ways: voluntarily. 

Maverick closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, trying to stop the fresh wave of tears from coming. 

He is debating on just saying fuck it and going back to the house to get his stuff and then heading to the airport—Carole won’t care about him not calling first, especially not after he explains why he was showing up on her doorstep unexpectedly—when a pair of headlights flash across him as a familiar car rolls to a stop right behind his bike. 

The Mustang’s black paint gleams in the burnt orange light and Ice gets out of the car. He eyes Maverick warily as he shuts the car door and comes around to the front, wisely keeping his distance by leaning up against the front of the car.

Maverick keeps his gaze steady on the sun fading over the horizon and maybe it’s petty, but he’s not going to make the first move. 

After several minutes of silence only broken by the occasional plane taking off or the sounds of the waves lapping at the rocks, Ice speaks. 

“Can we talk about this?” Ice asks, voice soft, but it carries over to Maverick over the sound of a commercial plane landing on the runway. 

Maverick shrugs. “You can talk about it all you want, I don’t care,” he replies, still steadily _ not  _ looking at Ice, “but it’s not going to change the fact that you’re leaving and you weren’t even going to tell me about it.”

Maverick hears Ice sigh and he knows he’s praying for patience but Maverick can’t even make himself feel guilty, not even if he tries.

“Would you stop being a fucking child for five minutes and just listen to me?” Ice snaps and Maverick doesn’t even have to look to know that he is clenching his fists at his sides, body taut with anger and frustration. 

Maverick throws his head back and laughs, actually  _ laughs _ “ _ I’m _ being the child? You’re the one that’s decided to throw almost three years away of… _ this,  _ just for five seconds of glory. Without bothering to consult me about it, too, might I add. Which I have every right to be upset about, by the way.”

“I’m not throwing this away,” Ice says defensively, standing upright from where he’d been leaning, “I’m trying to figure out how to work this out for the both of us, so  _ both of us  _ can be happy—”

“That ship fucking sailed when you said our life together was basically boring and not what you wanted,” Maverick snaps, pulling himself up from his bike, “and when you didn’t consult me about this  _ major fucking decision—“ _

“God damn it, stop throwing that in my face,” Ice demands, cheeks flushing in shame or anger, Maverick isn’t sure, “I get it, I screwed up, I should’ve said something sooner but  _ Christ _ , Mav, can you blame me for not wanting to talk about this with you?”

Maverick rears back, incredulous. “You’re actually blaming this on _ me _ ?  _ Me _ ? I didn’t do a goddamn thing to earn any of the blame in this one, Kazansky, so you can take your fucking pointing finger and shove it so far up your ass you’ll be able to taste it, you dick.” Maverick huffs, chest heaving in anger. “Excuse the fuck out of me if I’m not exactly jumping for fucking joy when you tell me you’ve been thinking about leaving me for  _ weeks,  _ maybe even months and not bothering to give me a chance to fix anything I’ve done wrong,  _ fuck _ —” He runs his fingers through his hair and he can feel the world spinning around him. Tears threaten at the edges of his eyes and he feels so far out of control, he doesn’t even know where to begin to right himself. 

“Mav,” Ice says, voice gentle,  _ hurt,  _ and Maverick just stares back at him, helpless, trying to  _ understand.  _

“I thought you—we—I thought we were happy and then you—” Maverick gestures weakly, not entirely sure what he is trying to say but feeling like he has to say _ something,  _ “you just want to  _ leave.” _

“Maverick,” Ice says, cupping Maverick’s jaw in his hands, cradling his face, brushing his thumbs over the tears sliding down his face and Maverick didn’t realize they were this close. His blue eyes are filled with so much regret and pain as they stare into Maverick’s, but it doesn't do anything to ease the hurt in Maverick’s heart. 

“Mav, baby, I—” Ice swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily and he looks so lost and torn that Maverick’s heart gives a weak tug and he has to fight the urge to comfort him, “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure it’s something I even wanted to consider. I can see where I was wrong in that and for that I’m sorry, really, I am,” he says, and Maverick can see the sincerity and regret swimming in his eyes. “I should’ve talked to you about it and I should’ve told you that Slider had called me.”

Ice pauses, looking over Maverick’s face that’s still cradled in his palms, blue eyes assessing and apologetic. “I went to Viper because he knows what it’s like, to have a family and be away from them and I needed—reassurance, maybe, that I wasn’t crazy for wanting to go back into active duty. Especially when I had this.” He strokes Maverick’s cheeks when he says it, “waiting for me at home.” He brushes his thumb over Maverick’s bottom lip and despite everything, he still shivers at the touch. 

“He said it was the hardest thing he had to do and each deployment got harder and harder, because he didn’t want to leave his family behind, his kids, his wife, everything— _ everything _ he loves,” Ice swallows heavily, “for months at a time. But he also loved his wings and his country, too.”

Maverick feels something shatter inside him and he wants to look away, but Ice’s hands on his face won’t let him. He feels it in his gut that Ice has already made his choice on what he loves more and  _ it’s not him. _

Maverick used to think there was nothing in the world he could love more than flying. The freedom, the thrill of going over eight hundred miles an hour and soaring high above the clouds, the rush that he got when he landed that ensured his hands didn’t stop shaking for days. 

But then there was the Layton rescue and Ice giving him a smile so bright and beautiful it rivaled the sun and his murmur of  _ you can be my wingman anytime. _

Maverick would gladly clip his own wings if it meant he could have Ice forever.

“And then he told me,” Ice continues, “that he had to decide what he loved more. What he wanted more. What he  _ needed _ more.” Ice brushes Maverick cheekbone with his calloused thumb, the touch reverent. “And he said when it came down to it, he didn’t really have to think about it. The decision wasn't as hard as he thought it would be.”

Ice pauses and Maverick can see him struggle to keep his gaze on Maverick’s. “I won’t lie to you and say that I didn’t think I could do it—have both. Go back to active duty and see you whenever I was between deployments and when I had shore leave.”

It hurts to hear, piercing a hole in Maverick’s already damaged heart, but he has faith that there’s a  _ but _ floating around in there and Ice doesn’t let him down.

“But then,” Ice says, voice raspy with hurt and pain, “you walked out that door and I thought I had lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I realized that while I love flying—” He swallows and Maverick can see the glimmer of tears in his pale baby blues. “—I love you  _ so  _ much more.”

The admission takes Maverick by surprise, because they don’t use those words often, so it’s still a shock to the system every time. 

“I couldn’t leave you for months and only see you for two weeks out of the year,” Ice admits, almost to himself. “I couldn’t leave you knowing you wouldn’t be able to come with me.”

He leans his forehead against Maverick’s, their noses brushing against each other’s and they’re breathing the same air. 

“You mean more to me than my wings and I’ve never—” He swallows, blinking his eyes open to meet Maverick’s. “I’ve never felt this way, about anyone. And I don’t want to. I just want  _ you, _ Maverick.”

“I want you, too,” Maverick admits, reaching out and touching Ice’s face, letting himself feel the warm skin under the pads of his fingers, the scratch of stubble tickling his palms. 

“I’m sorry,” Ice whispers and it’s all Maverick needs to hear. 

He crushes his lips to Ice’s and Ice, bless him, opens for him beautifully, just like he always does. It’s harsh and rough and tinged with the fear of Ice walking away, of leaving and possibly never coming back. It still beats strongly in Maverick’s heart and the relief that it’s not going to happen makes him dizzy, almost high with the emotional tailspin he’s been through in the last hour. 

Ice’s grip on his hips is so strong, Maverick knows he’s going to have bruises in the morning, but he can’t find it in him to care. He needs this—Ice, holding him so close that they share the same breath, solid and hard and _ real,  _ pressing against him, a reassuring weight and it makes tears spring to Maverick’s eyes because he almost lost this. Right here. This beautiful, stubborn and  _ impossible  _ man and he can’t—he  _ won’t,  _ he refuses—because there’s not a chance in hell that he would survive Ice walking away and never coming back to him. 

Ice’s lips are warm and sure and they meld and move with Maverick’s in a routine they learned long ago. He yields to Maverick, letting him have control, knowing he needs this, needs the reassurance and the comfort because he’s hurt and scared and it makes something shatter and break inside Maverick,  _ in the best way. _

They part on a gasp and Ice’s gaze is molten as he takes in Maverick’s swollen lips and flushed cheeks, but underneath it, Maverick can see the same fear reflected back at him and it makes Maverick push closer, until they can feel the strong staccato of each other’s hearts beat out the same rhythm in their shared space. 

Ice’s gaze roams over Maverick’s face—his lips, the rosy hue of his cheeks, the way his eyelashes cast shadows every time he blinks—like he’s taking inventory, memorizing everything he can see, like he’s seeing it for the first time in a while, like Maverick’s been gone for a lifetime instead of an hour. 

Their lips meet again and it’s slower, not as harsh and needy, but it’s sweet and gentle and it makes everything swell and then burst inside of Maverick. He tastes the salt of his tears before he really registers them falling from his closed eyes and Ice’s thumbs brush them away without missing a beat, his lips never leaving Maverick’s. If anything, it makes something come alive in Ice, like something finally snaps into place for him and suddenly he’s  _ everywhere.  _

He pushes Maverick up against the hood of the Mustang, trapping him with his hips and it makes Maverick gasp in surprise and pleasure when he feels _ all of Ice _ press up against  _ all of him _ and they both groan when their jean-clad erections brush together and now Maverick’s head is spinning for a completely  _ different  _ reason and he just  _ needs it. Now. Right here. Right now.  _

Ice’s tongue curls and dances over Maverick’s tastebuds and he’s breathless and wanting and sliding his hands down Maverick’s chest, twisting his nipples through the t-shirt and the drag of the material and the bite of pain makes Maverick buck his hips and he just,  _ fuck— _

“I need you,” Ice pants, breaking away and sliding his lips down Maverick jaw, to his throat, over his neck where his pulse flutters under Ice’s lips and teeth. “Fuck, Mav, I just—fuck  _ I need you.” _

“Okay, okay,” Maverick says, trying for soothing, but he’s just as desperate as Ice is and he doesn't think it sounds convincing, even to his own ears. “Just, fuck, get my— _ shit— _ wallet—”

Ice bites down on his nipple through his shirt and it makes Maverick’s brain stutter to a stop and he loses his train of thought when Ice grips his cock through his jeans and the friction is just so good—

The clinking of Maverick’s belt makes his brain come back online and he scrambles up from where Ice had pushed him down on the hood of the car— _ when did he miss that? _ —and fishes his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and tosses it at Ice, who catches it easily. 

Maverick takes the opportunity of being in close proximity to Ice’s neck and he trails kisses over the warm and salty skin, shivering when his lips brush over the cool metal of the chain that holds his dog tags.

“What—” Ice pants, cutting himself off with a moan when Maverick gives a particularly harsh bite where his shoulder meets his neck. “—why do I need—”

Maverick groans, annoyed and desperate and rips the wallet out of Ice’s grasp, not caring that the rough movement sends cards and cash flying  _ everywhere _ and huffs out a noise of triumph when he finds what he is looking for. He dangles the small packet of lube he keeps tucked in the billfold of his wallet for emergencies in Ice’s face, whose eyes light in recognition and he snatches it out of Maverick’s hand and pushes Maverick back down so he’s laying splayed out on the hood of the Mustang. 

“Since when did you become a boy scout?” Ice mutters as his fingers go back to working Maverick’s belt open. 

Maverick’s laugh turns into a moan when Ice achieves his goal and he yanks Maverick’s jeans open and he mouths at Maverick’s aching erection through the thin material of his briefs, where a wet spot has already formed at the front. 

He barely has enough brain function to kick his boots off into the grass beneath his feet and Ice nips at his cock as a reward, all but ripping his jeans and underwear off in one go, leaving Maverick exposed to the cool night air from the waist down. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Ice murmurs, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin of Maverick’s thighs before he takes Maverick into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip before he bobs his his head, taking more of Maverick in as he goes  _ down down down— _

“Fuck, Ice, so— _ shit _ —so good—” Maverick pants and it’s true, _ it is _ , but it doesn't feel like  _ enough _ . He needs Ice, inside him, all around him, pressing his body into Maverick’s so all he can see and feel and touch and taste and smell is Ice, wants his world to be reduced to just Ice and Ice alone and he can’t find the words because Ice is doing that _ thing _ with his tongue and teeth and it’s making Maverick’s head spin and words can’t see to form in his brain and  _ fuck— _

_ “Oh!”  _ Maverick shouts in surprise and pleasure and he can feel Ice’s lips stretch wide around his cock and Maverick can see the smug grin,  _ the bastard,  _ at Maverick’s reaction to Ice slipping a lubed finger into his ass and it’s everything and also just a tease of what he really wants and that’s Ice’s cock in him, fucking him into the hood of this car. 

“Ice, please, I need—” Maverick moans brokenly, torn between bucking his hips further into Ice’s mouth and bearing down on the finger that’s turning into two, if Ice’s teasing drag of his middle finger over his rim is anything to go by. 

Ice pulls off his cock with lewd wet sound that sends heat coiling in Maverick’s stomach and into his balls. “What do you need, baby?”

Ice’s breath is warm and it brushes over the cooling saliva on his cock and it only adds to the sensations and Maverick whimpers, bucking his hips for  _ more.  _

“You, _ fuck,”  _ Maverick says, not caring that his voice is desperate and pleading, he just wants… _ more.  _ “I need you, please, Ice I— _ ah, oh— _ I need  _ you _ .”

“Mave _ rick, _ ” Ice says gently, “look at me, baby.”

His fingers— _finally,_ _fingers_ instead of _finger_ , as in _singular_ —curl into Maverick’s prostate so suddenly that he has no choice but to blink his eyes open and stare down at Ice, who’s kneeling between his knees and Maverick’s cock twitches when he realizes that even on his knees, Ice is still at the perfect height to take him into his mouth. 

“You have me, Mav,” Ice says and it’s metaphorical as much as it is literal and it makes something warm grip at Maverick’s heart. “You have me, Mav, I’m right here, baby, I’m right here, I’m not going  _ anywhere. _ ”

The admission brings tears to Maverick’s eyes and he has to blink them away in order to see Ice stand to his full height and withdraw his fingers from Maverick—who whimpers at the loss, but Ice shushes him by capturing Maverick’s lips with his and replacing his fingers with his cock, sliding home into Maverick with a muffled groan. 

Ice gives him a moment, it’s been a minute since Maverick’s bottomed and he has to adjust to it—the stretch, the burn, even with the prep and the lube and the fullness,  _ god _ , he’s so full with Ice and it’s—

They both moan when Ice moves, pulling his hips back slowly, before he thrusts back in, quick and sure, nailing Maverick’s prostate dead on and it makes his toes curl and a wave of heat roll down his spine and he needs more—

“Fuck, Mav,” Ice whispers and it sounds like a plea as he begins to move in earnest, fucking into Maverick with a precision and control that only Ice could achieve, hips snapping in quick succession, hitting Maverick’s prostate  _ Every. Single. Time. _

Maverick’s a moaning mess, bracketing Ice’s hips with his thighs and it changes the angle, makes everything feel deeper and it’s _ more _ and it’s what he wants, what he needs and he can feel it in Ice’s movements that it’s what he needs, too. 

“I need you, Mav,  _ fuck _ , I need you,” Ice pants above him, blue eyes glinting silver in the moonlight as he watches Maverick just lay back and take him,  _ all of him _ . “I can’t— _ fuck _ , I can’t be without you— _ shit— _ you’re  _ everything _ , baby, everything to me—” Ice breaks off on a moan and he slows his fast pace into something slower, deeper, rolling his hips so he just grinds right into Maverick and it’s _ sofucksogood, _ “—always need you, always want you, can’t, fuck—”

The words are raw and vulnerable and they seem to come from a place of desperation and fear that Maverick has never seen before, so Maverick does the only thing he can think of—he kisses him, swallowing his moans and Ice sinks into it, cradling Maverick’s face in one hand and gripping his hip with the other and they’re both close, Maverick can feel the heat coiling in his lower belly, can feel the stutter in his heart, the tightening of his balls and he welcomes it. 

“Ice, I—” Maverick pants, breaking away to rest his head on Ice’s shoulder as Ice picks up the pace, rutting into Maverick in a way that’s almost animalistic in its intensity. 

“I got you, Mav,” Ice whispers roughly in his ear, nipping at the sensitive skin behind it. “I got you, baby, come for me.”

It’s a demand and a plea and Maverick falls head first into it, biting Ice’s shoulder, breaking the skin with his teeth when he comes, hot and hard between them. Ice follows him over the edge, burrowing his head into Maverick’s neck as he groans deeply,  _ guttural,  _ and bites Maverick back, right at the juncture of his shoulder and his neck and it makes Maverick’s cock twitch weakly against Ice’s stomach. 

They fall together—Maverick back down onto the now slippery hood of the Mustang and Ice into Maverick, resting his forehead on Maverick’s chest as they pant into the night air. Maverick runs his fingers through Ice’s messy blond hair as he tries to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible and he’s content, the shattered parts of himself realigning and settling into a calm now that he knows Ice is here,  _ right here,  _ nestled into Maverick’s body and he’s not going  _ anywhere. _

Ice sighs and the warmth of his breath is a contrast to the cooling sweat on Maverick’s body and itmakes him shiver. They both groan when Ice gently pulls out of Maverick, tucking himself back into his jeans and briefs and Maverick takes a second to mourn the loss of Ice being inside him, filling him in every way possible, before he sits up and lets Ice help him back into his jeans, slipping his boots back onto his feet and Ice collects the contents of his wallet before handing it back to Maverick, who just slips it into his jacket pocket. 

Ice stands between Maverick’s legs, because Maverick has yet to regain the strength back in order to move and he cradles Maverick’s face in his warm palms, gazing at his lips, the flush to his cheeks, before he meets Maverick’s eyes. 

There’s a calmness there that Maverick hasn't seen in weeks and even though it’s hard to see in the dark, Maverick can imagine that his eyes are back to that cool sea of blue. 

Ice brushes a kiss to Maverick’s lips and it sends a flicker of heat through his body, an echo of what’s always there—that intensity and strength of them, here,  _ together _ , protecting and loving each other and it’s everything for them, for Maverick.

“I’m sorry,” Ice whispers when they part, brushing his thumbs over the angles of Maverick’s face. “I never want you to think that I don’t—”

“Ice,” Maverick murmurs, stealing another kiss, “I owe you an apology, too.”

Maverick looks down at Ice’s chest, running his hand over the beat of Ice’s heart. “I should've tried to hear you out, instead of storming off. I just—” Maverick closes his eyes and when he opens them, Ice is watching him intently. “I got so…” 

S _ cared, terrified, hurt, betrayed. _

Maverick shakes his head. “I’ve never had _ —this,”  _ he gestures between them with a wave of his hand that Ice catches and brings to his lips, smoothing his lips over Maverick’s knuckles and that’s just what he needs to relax and just—

“I’ve never had someone love me the way you love me,” Maverick whispers. “I’ve never had a family or anyone that really mattered to me, not like this. I loved Goose, but he was my brother and I love Carole, but she’s like my sister and Bradley, I love that kid more than anything, I have since the day he was born, but you—” Maverick blinks and he’s startled to realize that he’s on the verge of tears. _ Again.  _

_ Goddammit. _

“—fuck, Ice you mean more to me than my wings, than Bradley and Carole and Goose and I just…I need you in a way that I’ve never needed someone and when you said you were thinking about leaving I just—” Maverick chokes, feeling his throat close up and his chest go tight. “I can’t lose you, Ice.  _ I can’t _ . I could do the distance, it would kill me, but I could do it, if that’s what you really wanted, but I’d have to follow you, wherever you go, because I couldn’t trust someone else to—be there, with you, protecting your wing and if I lost you—”

_ Mayday, mayday, Mav’s in a flatspin; he’s headed out to sea. _

Maverick swallows heavily. “But if it’s what you want—“

“No,” Ice murmurs, shaking his head. “Mav, I—I told you, when I thought about going back, I—” Ice exhales roughly through his nose and Maverick can see the frustration burning in his eyes, but he knows it’s directed at Ice and not at Maverick himself. “—I didn’t think about all of it. The risks, being away from you, how lonely deployment is. I only remembered the good parts—flying with an actual mission and the rush of fighting and winning and the feeling of doing something exciting.”

Ice smiles and it’s rueful. “I was looking at it though rose-colored glasses and I kept it from you on top of that and I—” He shakes his head. “I shouldn't have done that and I hurt you because of it, but I promise that wasn't my intention.”

“I know,” Maverick admits with an apologetic smile of his own. “You’d never intentionally hurt me and I shouldn't have flown off the handle like that. You deserved more trust than that.”

“Yeah, I did,” Ice says and Maverick can see the flicker of hurt in his eyes and it makes his heart swell with guilt. 

“Ice, I’m sorry,” Maverick whispers, brushing a kiss against his lips and he can feel Ice’s lips twitch into a smile. 

“It’s okay, I know this isn't always easy for you and I just need you to understand that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, not permanently, at least,” Ice says, voice soft, and Maverick nods. 

“I know,” Maverick whispers, “you’ve more than proven that to me over the years.” He huffs a soft laugh, shooting Ice a teasing smile. “Besides, just think of how boring your life would be without me in it.”

Ice rolls his eyes. “Please, my life would be a lot less hard without you in it, that’s for sure.”

Maverick grins, sliding his hands down Ice’s chest. “I don’t know,” Maverick murmurs, teasing the buckle of Ice’s belt, “you weren’t complaining about hard a few minutes ago.”

Ice’s eyes darken and Maverick smirks, slipping the strap loose from the buckle, letting his hands drift to the front of Ice’s jeans, his finger dancing along the seam of his zipper and he can feel Ice’s body respond to his gentle caress.

“I don’t hear you complaining about things being hard now,” Maverick whispers, cupping Ice through his jeans. “And baby, by the feel of things, there ain’t nothing soft about you right now.”

Ice kisses him, hot and wet and deep and Maverick groans, trading teasing Ice’s cock for tangling his hands in his hair, pulling him closer, pressing his body to Ice’s. Heat flickers low in his belly, lapping at his nerves and coiling in his balls. He can feel his own cock start to harden in his jeans and he can still feel Ice’s earlier release between his thighs and he needs  _ more. _

“Take me home?” Maverick requests breathlessly, pulling away from Ice and Ice grins at him, sharklike and dangerous, stoking the flames that are turning Maverick’s insides into jelly.  “There’s nothing I’d love to do more,” Ice replies before he leans in for another kiss. And another. And another.  _ And another.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! Please let me know what you think and stay tuned for the final installment :)
> 
> (Maybe...I've been toying with adding a sixth chapter to this so its a 5 + 1 and I have an idea for that +1 chapter, too :) ) 
> 
> What do you guys think of that? 
> 
> Much love xxxxxx


	5. Maverick's (their) new house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maverick had been antsy all day, ever since he came back from his long lunch break—which he has been very close-lipped about: where he was and why it required him to be gone for almost two hours, which hasn’t Ice into a panic, it hasn’t—and his fidgeting only increased the closer it got to them leaving to go home.
> 
> And it’s driving Ice nuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I'm really excited about this chapter, it was a fun one to write and I'm happy with the way it turned out. It was actually a bit difficult to write and I had to rework some things before I was fully satisfied, but it's finally here and I can't wait for you guys to read it. 
> 
> This chapter takes place about a year and a half before the last chapter. 
> 
> A few things:
> 
> First things first a huge huge HUGE thank you to Carly for going through not just this chapter, but the ENTIRE work and reworking things for me and editing mistakes that I hadn't seen or thought to change. She's been a huge help to me through this writing process and I'm so incredibly thankful for her and her (endless, it seems) patience. I'm a very wordy writer and she's a saint for going through this chapter by chapter with a fine tooth comb. So thank you times a million. She's also the reason why this story was created in the first place. She reached out to me on tumblr and gave me the idea. So if not for that, this probably wouldn't of happened. 
> 
> Second of all: Thank you to everyone who took time out of their day to give me feedback on the last chapter. This story has been so much fun to write and I'm incredibly proud of how this turned out. This fandom has been so kind and welcoming and I'm so thankful for all the support I've been given and for everyone welcoming me with open arms. 
> 
> And finally: This is my first multi-chapter story that I've finished. So. I'm super proud of that, too. As of right now, this story is completed. HOWEVER, I do have an idea for a possible sixth chapter and I'm going to see where that takes me. A lot of you said that you wanted more of this story and I plan to deliver, but it may not be my main focus. I've started a lot stories for this fandom that I'm really passionate about finishing and posting, so those will probably be my priority for right now. I'm going to kind of see where the wind takes me on that front. 
> 
> Thank you guys again for your continued love and support on this story. It makes me super happy. 
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe during this whole corona virus situation and I hope this chapter can help take your mind off of it for a little while. 
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

  1. _Maverick’s (their) new house_



_ A year and a half ago  _

Maverick is acting… _ strange. _

He’s squirming in the driver’s seat of Ice’s Mustang, leg bouncing and he is biting his lip so much Ice is sure he is going to chew it off soon if he doesn’t stop. 

Maverick had been antsy all day, ever since he came back from his long lunch break—which he has been  _ very _ close-lipped about: where he was and why it required him to be gone for almost two hours, which hasn’t Ice into a panic,  _ it hasn’t _ —and his fidgeting only increased the closer it got to them leaving to go home.

And it’s driving Ice  _ nuts. _

Ice is thankful that they weren’t in the air today, because whatever it is that is making Maverick so antsy would’ve made him just about useless up there. 

Ice is even wary of letting him drive his car, which meant just as much to him as his planes and Maverick, but Maverick insisted on driving them to back to Ice’s place on base when they left the classroom for the day. 

However, Maverick had driven by the turn for on base housing almost ten minutes ago. Now they were headed toward the beach, which didn’t make sense _ at all,  _ because it’s not like either one of them brought a change of clothes with them and it’s not like Maverick would take him to dinner when they were both in their uniform so—

Ice tries really,  _ really _ hard not to overthink what all this means. Maverick’s erratic behavior, his sudden disappearance, the long lunch and the fact that as they seemed to get closer to their destination, Maverick seems to grow even more anxious—shifting in his seat, tapping out a nervous beat on the steering wheel with his fingers when a red light is taking too long, fiddling with the radio, turning the volume up and down, changing the station in the middle of a song—

Ice calls on all the patience he can muster not to snap and demand Maverick just spit out it out already—where they’re going, why he’s acting like a deranged five-year-old,  _ something.  _

A lead weight has settled in his stomach and it only grows the longer they spend in the car driving to God knows where and just when he’s about to open his mouth to say something—he’s not even sure what, but his patience has stretched about as far as it can go—Maverick pulls into an unfamiliar driveway and puts the car in park in front of an equally as unfamiliar house. 

Now Ice is just confused. 

He flicks his gaze over to Maverick, who’s now watching him with a nervous smile that does  _ nothing _ to calm the lead weight in his stomach. If anything, it makes it  _ worse.  _

“Maverick,” Ice says, raising a questioning eyebrow, “what are you doing?”

Maverick’s nervous smile morphs into an over-confident smirk and it makes Ice think  _ oh no _ .

“I think, my dear Thomas, the better question is: what have I already done?” Maverick replies, reaching into his pocket and dangling a set of keys in the space between them with a Cheshire Cat grin. 

Ice’s eyes shift from the keys dangling from Maverick’s hand to the house in front of them and back to Maverick, whose confident grin is slowly fading in the face of Ice’s silence. 

“You,” Ice begins slowly, voice incredulous, “bought a  _ house?” _

_ That  _ was  _ not  _ what he expected. 

The shock must show on his face, because the brittle edges of Maverick’s grin smooth into something more solid and the self-assuredness that he’s known for returns when he meets Ice’s shocked gaze with one of excitement. 

“I bought a house,” Maverick confirms, twirling the set of keys around his finger for emphasis. “I sighed the papers today on my lunch break. It took longer than expected; that’s why I was late, but it’s—“ He pauses, something shifting in his eyes that Ice can’t catch before it disappears. “—mine, as of about four hours ago.” 

Ice continues to stare, dumbfounded, because this isn’t something he saw coming because Maverick never, in all their conversations, said something about  _ this.  _

He never even mentioned the possibility of  _ someday  _ moving off of base and into his own house, let alone going out to actively  _ look  _ at houses. Let alone to actually  _ purchase  _ one. 

Part of Ice is hurt that Maverick didn’t even tell him he’d been thinking about buying a house—something that suggests a permanence out of the current situation than Ice never thought Maverick really wanted. Maverick had only been an instructor at Top Gun for a year, he was still young and early in his Navy career, and Ice just assumed that this was more of a chance to gain his confidence back after…after  _ everything  _ that had occurred in Maverick’s life over the last year or so. He is still skittish on the subject, but Ice knows that things shifted with Maverick after Goose. 

Even after the Layton rescue, he still seemed…shaken. Seconding guessing his movements and if he could really do this without Goose beside him. 

Ice always thought this was a chance for Maverick to ground himself, come to terms with what happened and gain back whatever confidence he lost when he lost Goose. And then…well, he would go back to being the cocky, arrogant pilot that got under Ice’s skin, but that Ice would (secretly) admire for his bravery and fearlessness in the sky and in life. 

But  _ this— _ buying a house, wanting to put down roots, stay in one place for longer than a year or so—shocks Ice to his very core because if he is honest with himself, he never saw Maverick as the settling down type. It was a bitter truth that Ice had come to terms with ever since this thing between him and Maverick shifted into _ …more.  _

Ice himself isn’t sure if this Top Gun thing is what he wants for the long term, but ever since Maverick and this… _ thing _ , he’s been thinking about it more. It isn’t a bad gig—nine to five, weekends off, he gets to fly pretty much whenever he wants to and he can’t deny the satisfaction he gets taking the young, fresh faced, cocky pilots down a peg or two. Plus, it put him in one place for longer than a year or two, he gets to see his family more and that was something he hadn't been able to do in the last few years. And he is coming up on thirty; he always figured at some point he’d have to settle into something less… _ risky. _

There are things that Ice still wants to do and see and he wants to actually be alive to do them. He stared death in the face during the Layton rescue and  _ tha  _ made him reconsider certain aspects of his life. 

He just never knew Maverick wanted this, too. 

_ And that was the problem, wasn’t it?  _ Ice thinks to himself,  _ He never said anything to you, so maybe he doesn't see this whole permanence thing with you in it.  _

His chest aches at the thought, but he forces a smile when he notices Maverick’s mouth turning down into a worried frown. 

“Sorry, I was just wondering if hell froze over because Maverick Mitchell is actually doing something responsible and adult. I never thought I’d see the day,” Ice says, a beat too late and he hopes the deadpan tone of his voice distracts Maverick from his internal conflict.

It must, because Maverick rolls his eyes, his lips twitching and Ice knows he’s fighting back a smile. “Hey, fuck you, I can be an adult,” he informs Ice as he unbuckles his seatbelt and Ice takes it as his cue to do the same. 

“Mitchell, you almost set my house on fire trying to boil  _ water.  _ Forgive me for being a little shocked that someone actually let you  _ look _ at a house, let alone actually _ buy _ one.”

“Okay, first of all,” Maverick says, stopping in front of the Mustang to wait on Ice to catch up, “that stove is  _ faulty _ and a fire hazard just waiting to happen. Second of all, I contained the fire—”

“—by throwing a dish towel on it, which,  _ surprise, surprise _ , is flammable as well—” Ice cuts in. 

“—and it got put out before any real damage could take place,” Maverick continues as if Ice didn’t say anything. “So you’re being just a bit over-dramatic about the entire thing. Your house is  _ fine _ , no one got hurt and I put it out once I remembered the salt trick,” Maverick finishes with a sniff, turning on his heel and up the steps to the front door.

Ice raises an eyebrow, following him up the front porch steps. “Maverick, you  _ burned _ my pot. I didn’t even know it was  _ possible  _ to burn a stainless steel pot, but with you I guess all things are possible—“

Even with his back turned, Ice knows Maverick is rolling his eyes as he fits the key into the lock. “It was only _ slightly  _ charred and I told you I’d buy you a new one.  _ Jeez _ , Kazansky, loosen up a little; it was an accident.”

Ice huffs. “An accident that  _ almost burned down my house.”  _

Maverick gets the door unlocked, but instead of opening the door like Ice expects him to, Maverick turns and levels him with an unimpressed stare.

“Kazansky,” Maverick says, voice a mixture of annoyance and fondness, which  _ does not _ do weird things to Ice’s heart, _ it doesn't. _ “Shut up.”

Ice opens his mouth to respond, but Maverick leans up on his tip toes to kiss him and well, whatever Ice was going to say doesn’t seem as important anymore. 

Ice can feel Maverick’s smirk against his lips and he makes it his mission to erase any smugness Maverick might be feeling at effectively shutting him up. He presses up against Maverick, trapping him between the front door and his body, tracing Maverick’s lower lip with his tongue and Maverick moans, sliding his fingers into Ice’s hair and tugging him down, pushing himself closer against Maverick’s body and it’s Ice’s turn to be smug. 

“Ice,” Maverick pants as Ice slides his lips down his jaw, following the twitching muscles to the taut skin of his neck, “not here.”

Ice pulls away with a frown and Maverick gives him an apologetic smile. “I have neighbors and we’re both in uniform.”

Ice looks down at himself as if to verify that  _ yes, _ in fact, they  _ are _ in uniform and all it would take was someone driving by and they aren’t that far from base; it’s even possible that one of Maverick’s neighbors is in the military and—

“Hey,” Maverick says, smoothing a hand over Ice’s chest, “Ice, it’s okay. The realtor that showed me the house originally told me that she sold most of the houses in this neighborhood. She was surprised that with being so close to base that I was the first military guy she’d sold a house to. It’s okay,” Maverick repeats, reaching out and taking Ice’s hand in his own. 

He squeezes it gently, sea green eyes calm as they stare into Ice’s own, “We’re safe, Ice. It’s okay. I just didn’t want to give the neighbors a show. We still need to be careful, but not as careful as we’ve had to be.”

Ice feels himself relax and Maverick must feel the tension drain from Ice’s body, because he smiles up at Ice before he places a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Now, c’mon, I want to give you the tour of my new house.”

_ The house you never bothered to tell me about,  _ Ice thinks, but doesn’t say. 

He ignores the tight feeling in his chest as he follows Maverick into the house and he makes sure his face is the picture of politeness when Maverick turns to give him a bright smile as he pockets the keys. 

“Well, this is it,” Maverick says with a grin, eyes shining. “This the entryway, that’s the living room, that’s a den that I’m probably going to turn into a home office—” He points each room out and Ice follows with his eyes, taking in the the gleaming cherrywood floors and freshly painted crown molding and the musty smell of dust that someone tried to cover up with air freshener. 

The living room is big without being  _ too _ big, with large windows that let in a lot of natural light and a fireplace that’s done with simple but tasteful brickwork and Ice wonders if it’s ever seen an actual fire. There’s an archway that leads into what looks like the kitchen, but before he can really get a decent look, Maverick grabs his hand and he drags his attention to something else.

They pass through rooms and Maverick explains what he wants to do with each one—turn the den into an office or a reading nook (something Ice was very surprised to learn about Maverick when they first started doing… _ this _ , was that he was an avid reader. Anything from car manuals to history books; Ice had even seen a Jane Austen book next to Maverick’s bed one night when he’d stayed over), repaint the built-ins in the dining room even though he was unsure what to put in them since, he was pretty sure, they were supposed house china and Maverick didn’t own anything remotely resembling china. 

The thought of Maverick spending hours in some rich home goods store picking out a china pattern makes Ice snort, but then his chest tightens when he remembers: picking out china patterns is something that married couples do (at least that’s what Ice’s mother tells him every Hanukkah when she breaks out the set she and his father picked out when they got married) and while he is sure Maverick is far off from wanting to get married, the thought of Maverick doing something like that with some faceless woman makes Ice want to jump into the ocean and never resurface. 

Maverick takes him upstairs and shows him the master bedroom that’s spacious with an en suite bathroom with a tub  _ and _ a shower and a walk-in closet. It also has a pair of French doors that lead out to a balcony, and Maverick’s entire face lights up when he shows it to Ice. As they head back down the stairs, Maverick points out a bathroom in between two smaller rooms and Ice tries very,  _ very _ hard  _ not _ to think about why someone would need all those extra bedrooms in a house built for a _ family— _ and they end the tour in the kitchen and even though Ice’s stomach is practically filled to the brim with lead, he can admit that the view from the kitchen would be enough for him to buy this house, too. 

There’s a set of French doors that lead out to a back porch that looks like it should be featured in a beach living magazine. There’s even a small fenced-in backyard with grass so green Ice wonders if it’s real. Beyond the fenceline, Ice can see the sand of the beach and the glimmer of the ocean with the low hanging sun painting the sky a mixture of yellows and oranges and it’s _ breathtaking.  _ It lights the room in a hazy sort of glow and Ice can understand why Maverick wants to live here. Ice would want his bedroom to be right here, in this very spot, so he could see the ocean all day and never miss a sunset. 

He can hear Maverick talking behind him as he moves through the kitchen, looking over the appliances and the dark blue countertops, running his fingers over the smooth tile. Ice smiles when he sees the kitchen radio tucked underneath the cabinets and he wonders if that was a factor in Maverick buying the house, too.

“—I want to repaint the cabinets and maybe the walls. All the appliances are new, so that’s good. I want to get a small breakfast table, because the chances that we’ll actually use the dining room to eat in are slim. I think I want to look into adding on a small bathroom here, off the kitchen, so when you come back in from surfing, you can just shower right here so you don’t have to traipse through the house all wet. Plus, adding a bathroom downstairs would be nice to have so we don’t have to run up and down stairs all day—”

Ice closes the cabinet he’s been inspected with a loud  _ bang,  _ which makes Maverick pause in his explanation and raise an eyebrow at Ice, who’s staring at him slack-jawed.

“What?” Maverick asks from his perch on the corner of the counter, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “Do you not like the bathroom idea? We don’t have to add one, I just thought you might want it, like I said, for when you come in from surfing, which you’ve been talking about getting back into. I also haven’t looked up the cost of the add on, so if it’s too expensive now, we can revisit it later— _ Jesus _ Ice, what’s wrong?”

Maverick is looking at him with real concern now and Ice finds himself wondering if he looks as gobsmacked as he feels. 

“You said  _ we, _ ” Ice says without thinking, voice faint and when Maverick just continues to stare at him with this  _ and your point being? _ way, Ice clears his throat, thinking maybe Maverick didn’t hear him or something. “When you were talking about the dining room and the bathroom, you said—well, you said  _ we _ , as if—“

He falters, waving his hands in front of him uselessly and now Maverick’s concern is starting to melt into amusement the longer he watches Ice flounder for words. 

Because he can’t—there’s no way,  _ no way  _ Maverick bought this house for  _ them _ —that’s just, no,  _ that’s not possible _ —

“You bought  _ us  _ a house?” Ice demands, finally, staring at Maverick in disbelief and he has to grip the counter for support because _ what the actual fuck— _

Maverick ducks his head down and studies his reflection in his spit-shined dress shoes, “Well, it uh, it  _ could  _ be for us, if—well, if you want it to.”

He peeks up at Ice from underneath his lashes and he looks so shy and unsure all of a sudden and it does weird things to Ice’s heart. It makes it fill with such an unfiltered hope and Ice is sure he’s going to choke on his own heartbeat as it pounds harshly in his chest because  _ Maverick bought them a house. _

This sign of permanence isn't for some faceless woman who could help him fill it with faceless children and a dog and possibly a cat. It’s not for this imaginary family Ice pictured in his brain as Maverick lead him through each room. 

It’s for  _ them.  _

This sign of permanence is for  _ Ice _ and Ice  _ only _ , should he choose to accept it. 

Maverick must read his silence as hesitance because suddenly he's tripping over his words in his haste to explain the situation. 

“You don’t have to like, _ move _ move in, if you don’t want to,” he adds quickly. “You can like, stay, obviously, move _ some  _ stuff in so you don’t have to go back and forth—or you know, if that’s too much you can just, you know, pack a bag or whatever—”

“Mav,” Ice says, taking a step toward Maverick’s perch on the counter. 

“—of course, we can work up to that, if you want—”

“Mav—”

“—I know this is a big step, so I understand if you—”

“ _ Maverick,”  _ Ice says, stepping into Maverick’s space and cupping his cheeks in his palms. 

“Ice, really, it’s _ fine,  _ you don’t have to—” Maverick starts again, but Ice is done with talking, he’s never really been good at words anyways and he shuts Maverick up the only other way he knows how. 

He tilts Maverick’s chin up and captures his rambling lips with his. All of Maverick’s protests die on his lips and he automatically opens up for Ice, sliding his fingers into his neatly styled hair and  _ tugging, silently  _ demanding Ice to move closer and Ice obliges him willingly, closing any remaining distance between them and Maverick moans his approval. 

He teases Maverick’s lower lip with his tongue, nipping at the soft skin and he has to fight back a groan when Maverick’s hips buck in response, a sliver of heat sliding down his spine because with Maverick perched on the counter, they’re almost the same height and the angle is _ perfect.  _ He can feel Maverick  _ everywhere _ —every breath forces their chests to brush, every twitch of their hips slides their erections together and even though they’re both still fully clothed, Ice can feel the heat of Maverick’s body and it’s making his head spin. 

He can feel Maverick’s heartbeat racing in time with his and emotion swells hot and heavy in his belly, battling with the arousal that’s steadily climbing the charts toward  _ out of control _ and Ice chases after it like it’s an enemy MiG and he’s got it in the crosshairs of his guns. 

He slides his lips down Maverick’s jaw, nipping and teasing the salty warm skin of his neck, pausing his lips over Maverick’s pulse point and he takes a moment to just feel it—the life pulsing through Maverick’s veins, the steady beat of his heart under his lips and it hits him, then, like a swift punch to the gut that leaves him breathless, that he gets to feel this, every day, for the rest of his life, if he wants it. 

And Ice wants it more than he’s ever wanted  _ anything.  _

Because this, right here—Maverick in  _ his  _ arms, panting  _ his  _ name and breathless from  _ his _ kisses, begging for more of  _ his  _ touches—is the only thing Ice can ever remember wanting more than the Top Gun trophy, more than his wings, more than the rush of winning a dogfight, more than being the best of the best. 

And that’s why Ice stayed behind, because being with Maverick—hearing his laugh, seeing his smile, tasting the desire on his lips, feeling the way his heart races when he touches or kisses him—gives him the same high that flying always has. It’s why he was so willing to risk everything—his career, his wings—and now he doesn't have to and that says more to Ice than any three words ever could. 

Their lips meet in a messy kiss and Ice pops the buttons on Maverick’s service khakis, rucking up the white undershirt, desperate to feel smooth and tanned skin under his fingertips and Maverick wants it too, judging by the way he shrugs out of his uniform shirt and tugs his undershirt up and over his head, tossing both in an uncaring heap on the floor. 

Ice takes the chance to admire the toned skin on display—the way his muscles ripple under his skin as he moves, the way his skin gleams in the fading sunlight and it’s something Ice gets to see every single day for the rest of his life. 

It makes Ice smile and his body sing with heat and a want so deep Ice wonders if it’s possible to feel anything else. 

Ice hums his approval, tracing his finger around Maverick’s right nipple, smirking when it hardens in anticipation of his touch. He can feel Maverick’s gaze on him and he meets his eyes and his smirk only widens when he sees the way Maverick’s pupils dilate, his kiss swollen lips parted with every breath. 

Ice swipes his thumb over the pebbled nipple and he watches the way Maverick’s eyelashes flutter, the bob of his Adam’s apple and the stutter his hips give and it makes something snap inside of Ice, the tight hold on his control slipping and he wants Maverick _so much._

“Stand up for me, baby,” Ice commands, voice rough with desire and Maverick complies, sliding off the counter and onto his feet and Ice bites back a chuckle when he notices Maverick has to hold on to the counter for support. 

“Good boy,” Ice murmurs in approval, gripping Maverick’s hips and he pulls their bodies closer, nipping at the twitching muscles in Maverick’s jaw. 

“Ice, what are you—” Maverick starts, voice a breathy pant, but it’s cut off by a moan when Ice slips a leg between Maverick’s, teasing his erection with his thigh and Maverick’s hips buck, chasing the friction that Ice’s thigh offers. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Ice asks between kisses, making his way down the taut skin of Maverick’s neck. “I’m accepting your offer.”

“Wait, you’re—“ Maverick chokes on a groan when Ice sucks a nipple between his lips, teasing the sensitive bud with his teeth, “—you’re moving in with me?”

Ice lets his nipple go with a lewd pop and grins up at Maverick. “What can I say, Mav? You gave me an offer I couldn't refuse.”

The grin that lights up Maverick’s face has Ice’s belly doing summersaults and his heart stuttering to a stop in his chest, but it starts beating again when Maverick slides his hands into Ice’s hair and yanks him back up so they’re face to face and he stares into Ice’s eyes like he’s searching for something—a lie or a  _ but— _ and he must like what he sees because he kisses Ice like he’s just given him the world. 

Ice lets him have it, melting into Maverick and it’s not much of a kiss, as far as kisses go, because Maverick’s too busy smiling and Ice is laughing and then Maverick shifts to get a better angle and then they’re both moaning because they’re both still very hard and the heat from earlier returns tenfold. 

“Can I get back to thanking you properly?” Ice asks, teasing Maverick’s belt from its buckle and Maverick swallows heavily, watching Ice with heavily lidded eyes as he sinks to the floor on his knees. 

“Ice, I—yes— _ please _ —” Maverick pants when Ice doesn’t even bother with the button of his pants—just unzips and then Maverick’s cock is there, in his hands, leaking and flushed pink at the tip. 

Ice swallows him down without much preamble—all his earlier teasing is gone and now there’s just a need, burning bright and hot under his skin and he wants to make Maverick come undone, right here in this— _ their  _ kitchen. 

He sets a quick pace, hollowing his cheeks, teasing the slit on the upstroke, letting his tongue slide along the pulsing vein on the downstroke and it has Maverick gripping his hair and twitching his hips as he takes everything Ice has to give him, going along for the ride. 

“Ice,  _ fuck _ —I’m not gonna—fuck you’re too good at this—” Maverick groans, bucking his hips and it makes Ice choke a little and he nips at the head in reprimand on the next upstroke, but it only makes Maverick moan louder. 

Normally, Ice would pull away and tease Maverick into an apology before he resumes, but not today, not when the need to feel Maverick lose control is so strong. 

And he knows Maverick is close—can feel it in the way his thigh muscles twitch underneath his palms, in the hitch in his breathing change, in the way his moans are getting higher and louder with each pant of Ice’s name. 

Maverick grip in his hair tightens in a warning, but Ice ignores it in favor for swirling his tongue over the twitching head and letting his hand slide down between Maverick’s legs and pressing into the material of his pants, letting the material tease over his balls and then Maverick’s coming down his throat with a breathless moan of his name. 

Ice swallows everything Maverick gives him, only pulling away when he's sure he won’t make a mess of the kitchen floor and then he’s all but ripping his belt off in his haste to get it open so he can reach his own straining erection—he’s so hard it’s borderline painful and he can’t get this fucking belt off—

Maverick slips down to the floor, straddling his thighs and batting his hands away, undoing his belt with a finesse Ice didn’t know he was capable of and he can hear the sound of his zipper over the sound of his harsh breathing and then—

Maverick grips his cock in his hand and their lips meet in a messy kiss as Maverick strokes his cock quick and rough and it’s dry and the angle is slightly weird but Ice is so tightly wound that it takes four, maybe five strokes and then he’s coming in Maverick’s fist with a growl and a harsh buck of his hips. 

Maverick peppers kisses over his face as he comes down, their lips coming together as if pulled together by magnets, even though it’s more of them sharing the same breath than it is a kiss and Ice savors it—the closeness, the heat, the desire. It curls over his heart and stays there, right next to the piece of his heart that belongs to the man currently cradled into his arms.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that I already bought it,” Maverick says into Ice’s shoulder, “because I think some of your uh—well, we’re going to have to have these floors cleaned before we move in.”

Ice snorts, but the amusement fades into something more serious and he pulls away to look at Maverick, opening his mouth to say something, but there’s just so much and he doesn't even know where to begin and he’s so bad at this—

“Why?” is what he settles on and he guesses that sums up the whole thing, really. Because all that’s circled through his brain like a mantra this entire time is  _ why. Why me, why now, why a house, why would Maverick even want a house with me, why— _

Maverick doesn't answer right away and Ice doesn’t push it. He lets Maverick slip from his arms and they take a second to straighten themselves back out—tucking themselves back into their pants, Maverick shrugging back into his shirt and Ice tries not to outwardly pout at losing all of Maverick’s skin to look at. 

Maverick takes up his previous position on the counter and Ice settles in next to him, leaning his hip against the cool tile of the counter and crossing his arms across his chest as he waits. 

Eventually, Maverick turns his gaze out to the ocean when he says in a soft whisper, “I’ve never had a home before.” His cheeks flush pink in embarrassment at the admission and it twists something deep in Ice’s heart. “I was so young when my parents died, I don’t even really remember what our house looked like or where it was or if it’s even still there anymore.” His voice is so soft it’s more like he’s speaking to himself than to Ice and Ice has to step closer to hear him. “I’m sure it was on a Navy base somewhere, but then I went into foster care and I bounced around from foster parent to foster parent and then when I graduated from high school I joined the Navy and well, you know how that goes.”

Maverick meets his gaze and there’s an age old pain there that always makes Ice want to pull Maverick to his chest and hide him away from the world and protect him from every bad thing that’s ever happened to him. 

He wants to do that now, but he fights the urge, because he doesn't want to distract Maverick from what he wants to say. These moments of vulnerability are few and far between with Maverick, because despite living and thinking with his emotions, Maverick can be tight-lipped about what’s  _ really _ going on behind his cocksure attitude and easy going demeanor. It’s difficult for him to talk about these things and where most people would push, Ice lets him decide what he wants to share and what he doesn’t. He knows enough about Maverick’s past to understand how it turned him into the man he is today and that’s enough for Ice. 

“Viper called me into his office a few weeks ago and when I got there, a lawyer was waiting for me,” Maverick continues. “Turns out, my dad asked Viper that, if anything were to happen to him and my mom, to make sure that I was taken care of. But when my dad died, my mom and I moved and she—well, she did as much as she could to distance herself of anything that would remind her of my dad. Even me,” he mutters and Ice fights back a wince.

“Anyway, he didn’t know my mother had died until a few years after I’d already been in foster care and I moved around so much and the system is far from perfect, so they weren’t always great at updating my file and—well, long story short, I was supposed to receive an inheritance when I turned eighteen but because I was off on deployments and I never established a permanent residence until now, they weren't able to find me. So Viper contacted the guy and it turns out, the Navy gave my mom quite a bit of money after my dad died and she never touched it. She put it into an account for me to have when I turned eighteen and since no one has touched it in over twenty years, it collected quite a bit of interest and I now have a nice little nest egg.”

Biting his lip, he shrugs, trying for nonchalant but Ice knows this means something to him. “Viper told me to invest it and the market was good and I just—wanted something of my own, you know? I’ve always lived in other people’s houses—my parents, foster homes and when I joined the Navy, I was either in my barracks on the ship or in a base assignment or if I was in between deployments, I was crashing at Goose and Carole’s place and—” he pauses, ducking his head down in embarrassment. “Do I sound stupid?”

He aims the questions to his shoes and it makes something inside Ice ache, because Maverick shouldn't have to feel this way—this embarrassment at wanting a place to call  _ his.  _ To call  _ home. _ A place where he can feel safe and comfortable and make memories. Something he was robbed of having as a child. It’s something so simple and to most people, insignificant, but to Maverick it means everything and it just makes Ice wish he could take back anything negative he’s ever said or thought about his own childhood because in the grand scheme of things, he was lucky. 

He had a family—two loving parents who supported him and loved him, no matter what. Two sisters who drove him nuts, but who loved him with a fierceness that he’d seen displayed a lot over the years because of well,  _ this  _ current situation he was in. He lived in the same house from the time he was born until he moved out when he joined the Navy. He had birthdays and friends and sleepovers and Hanukkahs and he knew what it was like to sit around a dinner table with his family, laughing and joking and making memories. 

And it wasn’t until he got to know Maverick in a more intimate way that he realized just how lucky he was and still is. 

Because Maverick never knew the love of a family, not until he met Goose and later, Carole, and even later, when Bradley was born. He didn’t grow up in a loving home with two parents who adored him and siblings who teased and annoyed him, but would protect him when he needed it. He didn’t have birthday memories to share or a favorite toy he received Christmas morning.

And it makes Ice so goddamn  _ angry,  _ because Maverick was someone who deserved everything good the world has to offer and more. 

Maverick Mitchell deserves an endless stream of  _ more _ and Ice is determined to give it to him, for as long as Maverick will let him.

Ice slides between Maverick’s legs and cups his face in his hands, brushing his thumbs along the smooth skin of Maverick’s cheeks, encouraging him to look at him and he does, reluctantly. 

“You’re not stupid, Mav,” Ice whispers, brushing Maverick’s hair back from his forehead and Maverick leans into his touch, which makes Ice’s stomach flip in the  _ best _ way. He places a gentle kiss to Maverick’s forehead and he lets his lips linger there, breathing in the smell of Maverick’s woodsy shampoo. 

“You were given a very shitty hand in life,” Ice murmurs after a beat. “You weren't given the basic things that most people take for granted so wanting  _ this _ —” He pulls away and gestures to the space around them, before bringing his gaze back to Maverick, “—doesn’t make you stupid.”

He plants a soft kiss to Maverick’s lips and gazes down into his unsure eyes. “You deserve this, Mav. A house, a _ home.  _ You deserve it,” Ice says, tone booking no argument.

“You give me a home, Ice,” Maverick murmurs softly, but his voice is filled with so much conviction that it makes Ice’s breath catch in his throat. “You make me feel… _ safe _ . In a way. That sounds dumb, but—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, huffing a small, embarrassed laugh. “—I guess what I’m trying to say is that this year has been…hard.”

Maverick pauses and they both linger in the silence, acknowledging the  _ why  _ in their own separate ways. Maverick might’ve been flying the plane, but it was Ice’s jet wash, his hesitation that had been responsible for Maverick’s plane flaming out. Ice never let himself wallow in that particular memory, but it was hard _ not _ to think about it when he saw the flash of pain in Maverick’s eyes every time he thought of Goose. The guilt that lurked behind his eyes whenever he talked to Carole or Bradley. 

He knows Maverick will always feel responsible for Goose, but Ice knows that part of that responsibility rests on his shoulders, too. 

“Anyway,” Maverick continues, clearing his throat, “while this year has been hard, it’s also been one of the best of my life and that’s—I owe that to  _ you. _ ” He meets Ice’s eyes and there’s so much emotion swirling in his eyes, like the ocean churning right before a storm and it’s making Ice dizzy in the best way. “You mean so much to me,” Maverick breathes and the admission hangs between them, cocooned between their bodies and Ice savors it, because it’s the closest they’ve ever been to saying _ it.  _

“Ditto,” Ice murmurs back, blinking his eyes open to see Maverick already watching him and Ice feels his lips twitch. 

Maverick’s easy grin stretches across his lips and it makes Ice’s lips pull into a smile and then they’re both just standing there, in  _ their _ kitchen, wrapped up in each other, in  _ their  _ house, smiling at each other and it’s the closest thing to freedom Ice thinks he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Because here, in  _ their _ house,  _ their home,  _ he’s free to do whatever he wants, without fear of someone catching on to _ this—them, _ here, together. He doesn't have to worry about people whispering about them, the amount of time they spend together, how often Maverick comes over or vice versa. He can fall asleep next to Maverick and wake up next to him in the morning. Make him breakfast, listen to him sing—loud and off-key—in the shower. He can kiss him when he steals a sip of morning coffee from Ice’s mug and somehow, it'll taste sweeter coming from his lips. They can kiss each other goodbye, kiss each other hello. They can spend lazy days in bed together and clean the house together, cook together—and it’s _ everything  _ he’s wanted for the year that he’s known what it’s like to love Maverick Mitchell. 

He doesn’t have to worry about stretching out their time together or having to say goodbye and watch Maverick walk out of his door. 

Because this house is _ theirs _ . Together. They’re free to love each other, for as long as they want to and they don’t have to say goodbye  _ ever  _ again. 

“We’re really doing this,” Ice murmurs and he feels giddy and elated and so unbelievably happy and it’s  _ everything. _

“We’re really doing this,” Maverick confirms, brushing his nose against Ice’s and hearing it spoken out loud does funny things to Ice’s heart and his grin, if possible, stretches even wider. 

And for the first time in years, Ice is  _ home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> This chapter feels a bit different than the other ones. I didn't focus as much on the sex in this one as I did the other chapters, but I hope there's enough in here to make people happy :)
> 
> The inspiration for Mav and Ice's house actually came from a search on pinterest--I searched for vintage floor plans and it came up with some really cool results. I imagine their house to be an old craftsman style house on the beach and that's where I drew inspiration from when writing this. 
> 
> Like I said, there's a possible sixth chapter coming, but it's not my main focus. I have another story that's almost completed and I want to get that one edited and posted and then I want to start on other projects. All for this fandom, IceMav has inspired me to get back into writing and I haven't been able to let them go, so as long as they keep giving me ideas, I'm going to keep writing them. 
> 
> Stay safe guys <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think and if have any further suggestions or constructive comments, feel free to leave them down below :)


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